Treason's Revelation
by RememberFics
Summary: WDZ - In the aftermath of the Eagle things are quiet and Diego gets the chance to work for justice as himself, putting Zorro aside. However, a new insidious web is being woven and the young, idealistic de la Vega seems the perfect target. With darkness looming over California once more, when Diego and Bernardo are convicted of treason, can Zorro even return? Epic-length
1. Prologue

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

 **This Story is a repost of a fic written by Karla Gregory! It was posted online around the year 2000** **and was by far the author's longest work on that site. The story is divided in 4 'Books' and I personally think it is one of the greatest works of fanfiction in the (Walt Disney) Zorro fandom, but I'll let you decide that for yourselves! For more information on this author and other stories by them check the profile page.**

 **QUESTION FOR THE READERS:** While the start is a bit slow I have a huge love for it as a whole. It is absolutely epic! That said though, a glaring weekness of this story is that the author seemingly didn't have anyone Beta Reading and checking the spelling and grammar of this story. Since I don't have a way to contact the author right now I'm having trouble deciding if I should go over each chapter first before posting and Beta them myself (and update the chapters I've already posted) or if I should continue posting the chapters in their original state. Please let me know your opinion?

 **This story takes place between the first and second seasons of the series, starting shortly after the end of the Eagle Arc.**

* * *

 **Prologue**

 _"The prisoner will stand."_

 _"Diego de la Vega, you stand convicted of the crime of treason against the people and government of California and against our sovereign, the King of Spain. The crime of which you are guilty warrants the penalty of death. However, out of the deep respect due your father, Don Alejandro de la Vega, a true patriot, who came to the defense of his country and his king against the usurper, José Sebastian de Varga and who led the victorious fight in this very pueblo against this same usurper, we have taken it upon ourselves to commute your sentence. It is the order of this court that you shall be exiled for life from the territories of His Majesty known as Alta California. It is further ordered that you shall be exiled from all lands under the rule of our sovereign, the King of Spain. Notices shall be posted in every port and every pueblo that will declare your treason and your exile. To return to these lands is death. You will be taken from here and placed under house arrest at the hacienda of your father until tomorrow evening, when you shall then be escorted to the ship now anchored at the port of San Pedro. You may take only such belongings with you as Don Alejandro will allow, nothing more. When the ship sails, you will be on it, placed in the custody of the ship's captain._

 _"Diego de la Vega, you are forever forbidden from these shores._

 _"Now, to the servant. Lancer, you will make him stand._

 _"The servant, Bernardo, also stands convicted of treason. This Bernardo was caught in the act of breaking into jail, the jail where his master had been lawfully incarcerated, trying to help de la Vega escape. He also witnessed the prior actions of his master and knew of their treasonous nature. He should have reported these things to the authorities and yet chose not to do so. His disabilities notwithstanding, the servant Bernardo knows right from wrong. His was a deliberate act of ignoring the law. Therefore, it is the order of this court that the servant Bernardo be hanged upon the gallows by the neck until he is dead, no later than noon of the day after tomorrow, or as soon as the gallows may be constructed. He shall be held in the jail of the cuartel until the sentence may be carried out._

 _"I declare that these proceedings are now concluded. This court stands adjourned. Remove the prisoners."_

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

The trial of Diego de la Vega rocked the pueblo of Los Angeles and sent shock waves all the way to Monterey. Never in their lives had the people of Los Angeles expected to witness such a spectacle as Diego de la Vega being accused and convicted of treason. Some few still could not believe it, but there were many more who were convinced by the evidence presented by the new Magistrado, Jorgé Martinez Santiago, who had arrived in the pueblo early in the first month of the new year. These were the people who suggested that were it not for the new Magistrado, the crimes of Diego de la Vega might not have been discovered until it was too late. But even now, the people did not feel safe. If the son of the most prominent landholder in the district could be part of a conspiracy to overthrow the legitimate government of His Majesty, then just whom could they trust?

And what of Zorro? The armies he was said to be gathering in the hills in preparation for conquering California for his own were still there were they not? De la Vega's conviction as Zorro's co-conspirator only served to lend credence to the stories. Rumors started to circulate among the people that many were ready to leave California and perhaps go to Argentina or some other of the Spanish colonies where the government was more stable, or to return to Spain herself. After the affair with the Eagle and now this new revelation, those who longed for security and safety were on a razor's edge and it would not take much to tip the balance.

The new Magistrado looked upon the situation with great satisfaction.

Things were going well.

* * *

 **[SPOILER]** This story is divided into 4 BOOKS _(which I'd summarize like this)_ :

 **BOOK 1: Establishment**

 **BOOK 2: Ensnared**

 **BOOK 3: Trials**

 **BOOK 4: Resurrection**


	2. B1 Ch1: The Magistrado Comes

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

 **Accountholder's Note:** Here begins BOOK 1 of Treason's revelation, the ' **Establishment** ' book, just a couple of months after the end of the first season of the series.

* * *

 _ **Summary BOOK 1 (Establishment):** The Eagle has been defeated and for the first time in over a year things are somewhat quiet in Los Angeles. With no need for Zorro, Diego is in limbo and has started contemplating what he wants do with his life, when a new Magistrado arrives in the pueblo... Jorgé Santiago presents himself as a man of Justice with ideals that resonate deeply with the young de la Vega. When Diego is offered the chance to work as his debuty he grabs it with both hands, eager to help the people of California in a more legitimate way and hoping to maybe win some of his father's respect back. The Magistrado however, has something different in mind..._

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 1 -** ** _The Magistrado Comes_**

In the months after the death of the Eagle, California sighed in relief. It was a time of healing for the beleaguered colony. The men who had been captured were made to talk and it was to be hoped that most, if not all, of the Eagle's men had been rounded up and put in prison or executed for their crimes. Everyone from the peons to the large landholders felt more freedom to conduct their lives without fear of the criminal element which had plagued California for so long.

During this time, Diego de la Vega enjoyed a much needed period of rest from his labors as the masked man, El Zorro. In the year or so since his return from Spain, he had been constantly vigilant against the tyranny and injustice forced upon the people of California, first by Capitán Enrique Monastario and then by José Sebastian de Varga, the Eagle. With most of the criminals gone, Diego could, at last, sleep right through the night without being disturbed. This led to Bernardo's silent comment concerning the gradual disappearance of the small lines which had formed around his young master's eyes as a result of his many nocturnal missions.

However, there was always the undercurrent of the strained relationship Diego had with his father which ran through his days. But during this period of calm, even this was reduced to a minimum. It was as though Don Alejandro had just decided not to talk about his disappointments anymore. Diego was able to spend some time with his father, and, as long as they kept to lighter subjects, they were able to carry on satisfying conversations. Although he was not ready to give up his other identity, Diego was hopeful that the need for Zorro was over and that slowly and carefully, he could move into a more normal life, the life that he had placed on hold while he dealt with the evil men who had wielded their power so unjustly. His fondest wish was to regain his father's respect. Given enough time, Diego was confident he could do so.

One morning, just a few days after the start of the new year, Diego was eating a late breakfast in the warm kitchen of the hacienda. As he often did, he was talking to Crescensia and some of the other servants about their families. Today, the women were preparing to make some candles from tallow, and Buena was stirring the great pot on the fire while Teresa prepared the wicks.

"Do you mean to tell me little Emilio did all that in such a short time?" Diego said, laughing.

"Sí, Don Diego! He was covered in mud up to his ears," laughed Crescensia. "I will never forget the look on his face," she said, as she wiped her hands on her apron. Both she and Diego chuckled over the antics of Crescensia's three-year-old grandson. The other women laughed also. Their attention was then drawn to the back door of the hacienda as Don Alejandro walked in with a breath of cold air following him, having just returned from the pueblo. The older man pulled off his gloves and hat, laying them on the table.

"Well, Father," said Diego, leaning back in his chair. "What is the news of the pueblo this day?"

"There is important news today," said Don Alejandro. "Sergeant Garcia has received a letter from Monterey which says a new Magistrado for our district will be arriving by coach on the fifteenth of the month, two days from now."

Both Diego and Crescensia exchanged looks.

"Now, do not look so worried," said Don Alejandro, pulling a letter of his own from the inside of his hat. "I have here a letter from the Governor, sent to me personally. In it, he expresses great confidence in this new Magistrado . . . a Señor Santiago," he said, as he referred to the letter. "Señor Santiago, it seems, helped to round up and prosecute many of the Eagle's followers in Monterey and San Francisco after that foul usurper was defeated here. He was also once a member of the Viceroy's personal staff. The Governor has asked me to acquaint Señor Santiago with our pueblo and to give him my full support."

"All right, Father," said Diego with a smile. "On behalf of the Governor, we shall give the new Magistrado the benefit of the doubt. Will there be a reception?"

"Sí. A reception is being planned in the tavern," said Don Alejandro. Looking directly at Diego he said, "And you should be there too. We all need to show our support for the new Magistrado."

"I would not miss it, Father," said Diego. He had felt himself go on inner alert at the news of the new Magistrado, despite the governor's reassurances. He would watch this new man very carefully. An honest government official would be a rarity for Los Angeles given its recent history.

"Very well," said Don Alejandro. "Crescensia?"

"Sí, Don Alejandro?"

"I will be in the library working on my ledgers the rest of the morning. You may bring my lunch to me there."

Crescensia smiled and acknowledged his orders with a little bow and said, "Sí, Don Alejandro."

The elder de la Vega picked up his gloves and hat and walked out of the room. Crescensia looked after him a moment as Diego finished drinking the chocolate in his cup. "Do you think the new Magistrado will be a good man, Don Diego?" she asked.

"I hope so," said Diego, smiling up at her. "We certainly have had enough of the other kind, haven't we?"

"Sí," she said, nodding her head thoughtfully.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Jorgé Martinez Santiago used the gloves he held in his right hand to brush off the small mote of dust which had settled on the sleeve of his dark suit coat. There were still many miles to go before they would reach their destination, and the coach, while dusty, was not excessively so. The recent rains of winter had settled the dirt of the roadway and it did not fly up in the great, dry clouds it would at other times of the year. He was grateful the rains had come, for his wife, Gracilia could not abide the dust very well. Her illness was trying under the best of circumstances and the dust of El Camino Real would have made both of their lives more miserable. He looked at her now, reclined on the seat in the opposite corner of the coach, her pale skin almost translucent in the winter-weakened sunlight. She was enveloped in her warmest garments and covered with several thick blankets to protect her from the cold. Her eyes were closed against her constant companion; the pain that defied explanation. No doctor in California seemed to know what caused her pain, nor did they know what to do for it. Laudanum was the only thing which seemed to give her any relief, but it was only the relief of drug induced sleep. It would seem the medicine took as great a toll on her as did the illness, but she could not live without it. Her serving woman, Pippa, sat next to her and constantly adjusted the blankets and administered Gracilia's medication as required. Pippa's one and only duty was to take care of Señora Santiago.

Santiago looked back out of the window at the countryside and sighed within himself. He had, only last year, married the Governor's niece with such high expectations and now he was reduced to living with an invalid. Of course, there was nothing he could do about it without angering the Governor. He could only carry on and live as well as he could while she lived. Marrying Gracilia had been the next logical step in his life after he had reached California. The marriage gave him ties to the Governor which could only have been strengthened more had he been able to marry the Governor's own daughter. But Leonar had been out of reach while that shining example of soldierhood, Capitán Felipe Arellanos stood in the way. The Governor seemed to favor him as a match for his daughter, and so Santiago had to be contented with the niece.

Santiago fingered the hilt of the ornate sword by his side. When he and Arellanos had fenced each other for sport, he had entertained the thought a few times that a slip here or there and Felipe would no longer be a contender for Leonar's affections. But he had stayed his hand. The niece had been adequate for his needs and she was almost as dear to the Governor as his own daughter. Gazing at Gracilia once again, he was rather chagrined that he had been so accommodating. Leonar was still a healthy young señorita, unlike his unfortunate wife. For a moment, he dared to imagine his life without Gracilia should she succumb to her mysterious illness.

Shrugging his shoulders to himself at the futility of those imaginings, he patted the portfolio on the seat next to him which contained his credentials. Despite his wife's illness, he was making progress in his career. He had been chosen by the Governor to be the new Magistrado for the pueblo of Los Angeles and the documents signed by the Governor, with the authority given to him by the King of Spain, were safely in his possession. Santiago knew he was considered young to take up such an office. He was now only in his mid-thirties, but he had made a name for himself in Spain as a young man with ability. His family was of small importance in the hierarchy of Spanish nobility, but young Santiago had the clever talent of attaching himself to those above his station. He was quick and intelligent. Whenever an opportunity came along to further his career, he took it, much to the satisfaction of the men who bid him farewell. Most of them were just jealous enough of his abilities that they were quite glad to see him move on.

When he had reached his late twenties, he had been assigned to the staff of Spain's ambassador to the United States of America and had traveled that country extensively. What he had seen there had changed his life. The Americanos were a people charged with an energy he had not seen before. They were industrious and ambitious, always wanting something better than what they had at present, and they were not afraid to take chances to get it. Santiago was by then well aware of the great tract of land, called the Louisiana Purchase, which had been acquired by the Americanos from the French in 1803, notwithstanding any Spanish feelings which may have been trampled in the transaction. The point was that the Americano settlers were moving to fill the land, claiming vast areas for their farms and ranchos.

Santiago knew something about the Americanos which they did not know themselves, except perhaps in the highest levels of their government and society. He knew that their expansion would not stop until they reached all across the North American continent, all the way to the Pacific Ocean. And that included Spain's holdings in California. Santiago knew Spain's hold on her colony in California was tenuous at best. With the continual wars against her neighbors draining her manpower and her wealth, and the sheer distance involved just to maintain a presence in California, Spain would be hard pressed to keep California for herself. Mexico was far too weak to hold more than they already had. Even if the Mexican government came to California, they would be no match for the Americanos when they came. It occurred to him that whomever controlled the lands of California when the Americanos arrived, could and would make a vast fortune by selling the land to them. He decided that he would be that man.

So he began working even harder, seeking promotions and advancements within the Spanish government. Finally, an opportunity came to join the Viceroy's staff. He traveled with the Viceroy on his visits to the Spanish-held colonies in South America and then on to California. Santiago soon found that Señor Juan Dehnerias was rather an anomaly in the usual assortment of Spanish government officials. He was an honest man. One who was totally committed to the furtherance of His Majesty's interests in the new world. Santiago watched how he wielded the power of his office with integrity. The Viceroy used the force of his own personality to gain the respect and obedience of those he was sent to govern.

Santiago watched and learned, honing his political skills with Senor Dehnerias as his mentor. As they traveled, he saw the corruption and avarice of the men in power all along the South American coast. He observed how that they were unsophisticated and used their power bluntly. How that the people feared them and were cooperative only when force was applied. Santiago greatly admired the more subtle, but equally effective use of power by the Viceroy. To all who knew Jorgé Martinez Santiago, he became one of the most honorable men whom they knew. He scrupulously kept his word and upheld the law in all its facets. He was kind to his servants and his animals. He was the one man in California whom the Governor deemed acceptable to wed his niece. No one could fault him for his deportment in his professional or personal life. Yes, he carefully followed the Viceroy's example.

But only up to a point.

Santiago smiled as he gazed out of the window of the coach. When an opportunity presented itself as the Viceroy's party had reached the capital city of California, he had been ready. With the Viceroy's blessing, he had joined the staff of the Governor in Monterey. Having demonstrated his loyalty and ability, Santiago had been the logical choice to fill the position. Thus, Santiago had been stationed in Monterey when the usurper known as the Eagle had made his infamous attempt to take over California for his own interests. Santiago himself had ferreted out several members of the Eagle's organization in Monterey and had them arrested, gaining further favor with the Governor. He spent the next few months interrogating those men in order to round up the rest of the Eagle's conspirators, thereby gaining more notoriety and acclaim. He made an effort to remain scrupulously honest in his dealings, further securing for himself the reputation he wished. He was pleased to hear some compare him quite favorably with the Viceroy.

Santiago was amused. He had been able to use the power of his office to hide some of the Eagle's men from justice. He had given some of them new identities and had hidden them in plain sight as tradesmen or merchantmen. These men knew their fate rode along with his, for he had but to reveal their true identities and they would be hanged. A merchant in Santa Barbara plied his trade there in the most honest fashion, waiting for such a time as he might be needed. The commandanté of the garrison in Santa Barbara was also his to command, the Eagle's shadow insuring his loyalty. Yes, Santiago was quite satisfied with what he had accomplished right under the nose of the Governor and the military. Everything was hidden in plain sight. No better camouflage could be obtained.

Santiago had made further observations as to how frightened and distrustful many people were of all government officials as he traveled throughout California. They were still uncertain of what the future of California would hold for them and their families and it would not take much to stampede them. It seemed the Eagle had given Santiago a most useful gift. The gift of fear.

If Santiago could but convince the people that another conspiracy of traitors was brewing, the ships and roads leading out of California would be filled with those fleeing the threat. Santiago would be left to buy up vast tracts of land for one peso in ten, or perhaps even less. By the time people realized that there was no overt conspiracy, he would be in control of most of California. Legally. And that was the key. With legal ownership of the land, no one could take it from him.

He had his eyes on the governorship as well and was confident that the old governor would be inclined to choose him over the foppish Arellano when the time came. He would take the steps necessary to insure that. Then, all he would have to do is wait upon the Americanos to arrive with their fat purses to buy the land from him. When he was governor, no one would be able to question his authority to sell land to foreigners when he so chose. As governor, his would be the final word on that subject. Mother Spain would by then be far too weak to mount any opposition.

All he needed was a scapegoat. There would be a trial and a hanging. He would continue to fan the flames of conspiracy with rumors and innuendo. No one would ever know that he was the basis for their fears. In fact, as he played this out in his mind, he could see the people turning to him for help, as the only man whom they felt they could trust.

Santiago's mind returned to the present and he noticed Pippa staring at him from her corner of the coach. She was probably wondering about the smile on his face, he mused to himself. Let her wonder. Santiago settled his sword more comfortably at his side and then crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back into the corner of his seat. He closed his eyes to shut out Pippa's stare and pretended to sleep. But he did not. He entertained himself in the miles that followed with the plans he was making for his future.


	3. B1 Ch2: The Magistrado's Welcome

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 2 – _The Magistrado's Welcome_**

The air was crisp and cold the morning the coach bearing the new Magistrado and his wife pulled into Los Angeles. Sergeant Garcia had all of his lancers assembled in the plaza in front of the cuartel and Don Alejandro made sure there was a large crowd of his peers there as well. The merchants and peons of the pueblo rounded out the assembly. Standing well back from the front ranks of the crowd, Diego and Bernardo secured a position near the central well from which they could see and hear everything. Since he was not as tall as Diego, Bernardo stood on the step of the well in order to see. They watched as Sergeant Garcia ran over to the door of the coach and opened it, snapping to attention and saluting smartly.

A tall and slender man stepped gracefully down from the coach and everyone was rather surprised at what they saw. The new señor was quite young to be a Magistrado. Each person in the crowd looked at the next as they questioned in their minds whether this man would have the knowledge and experience necessary to hold such an office.

Bernardo shared the same look with Diego.

Shrugging his shoulders, Diego turned his attention back to the coach. He observed that the man reminded him somewhat of the former commandanté, Enrique Sanchez Monastario. Besides being near the same height and build, he was perhaps in his mid-thirties in age. He wore his hair somewhat longer, and his beard, which only partially concealed the long, straight scar along his jaw line, was worn much in the same style as that of the former commandanté, but was lightly peppered with grey. The most notable exception was that, whereas Monastario's eyes had been a light ice blue in their color, Señor Santiago's eyes were so dark as to be nearly black. In place of a military uniform, he wore well-tailored civilian clothing as befit an official of His Majesty's government, topped off with a grey felt hat. Diego also made note of the sword the Magistrado wore at his side. Something about the new Magistrado made Diego think the man knew how to use it and that he did not wear it merely for ornamentation. And that scar. It had most certainly been made by a blade. Bernardo picked up on the scar also, for he used his finger to draw its likeness along his own jaw. Diego nodded once to acknowledge his servant's observation.

"Do I have the honor of greeting His Excellency, Señor Jorgé Martinez Santiago, the new Magistrado for the pueblo of Los Angeles?" asked Garcia, still at attention.

"You do, Sergeant," said Santiago. Reaching into his portfolio, he pulled out his credentials and handed them to the Sergeant.

Garcia opened them and read silently for a moment. Folding the papers once again, he handed them back to Santiago and said, "Everything is in order, Your Excellency." Coming to a salute once again, Garcia said, "I am Sergeant Demetrio Lopez Garcia, acting commandanté of the pueblo de Los Angeles, at your service."

Turning towards Don Alejandro he said, "Your Excellency. May I present Don Alejandro de la Vega, owner of the finest rancho in all California. Don Alejandro, His Excellency." His presentations made, Garcia stepped back a pace.

Don Alejandro bowed before the Magistrado. "Excellency. We bid you welcome to our humble pueblo. We are all here, landholders and common people alike, to welcome you. Let me say how good it is to see a representative of His Majesty's government return to our district. We shall endeavor to make you comfortable and render any aid which you may require to carry out your duties."

Making a small bow, Santiago said, "Thank you, Señor de la Vega." He turned to address the crowd. "And I want to thank all of you for this warm welcome on such a cool morning." He bowed to them, then continued. "The governor has honored me by appointing me to the high office of Magistrado for this district. You shall soon see that I have a reputation in Monterey which you will find is well deserved." Santiago made eye contact with all the dons and peons alike. "I have a saying which I live by and hold to steadfastly." He paused for dramatic effect. Projecting his voice loudly, he said, "Justice is served." Then in a more normal tone, he continued. "If you break the law, you will face the penalty as prescribed by law. If you observe the law and follow its precepts, then we will have peace and order. I am aware you have been under the authority of those who misused their high office to try and further their own desires for money or power. Those men have been removed or are dead. I am here now and justice will be dispensed with an even, but firm hand. If you do not trust me, try me. My door will always be open to those who need me. The Governor of California has placed his trust in me and has given me this office. I pledge to you upon my honor that I will never break that trust."

The crowd broke into cheers. These were the kind of words they longed to hear. Bernardo and Diego exchanged looks again. So far, so good.

Santiago surveyed the crowd and was pleased at his reception. The noble little speech he had given them was perfect. He did not imagine that he would have any difficulty maintaining the image of himself he wanted them to accept. The satisfied smile he presented to them had a double meaning that only he was able to appreciate.

Don Alejandro took the opportunity when the crowd had subsided to speak once again. "Your Excellency. We have made arrangements for a reception in your honor this evening at the inn. If you will come this way, I will show you to your living quarters and your office. You must be tired from your long trip. When you have rested, we would be honored if you will be our guest at the inn at eight o'clock?"

"I would be delighted to accept," said the Magistrado, smiling. "It will give me time to see to my wife's comfort and settle our things."

"Your wife, Your Excellency?" said Don Alejandro in worried tones. "We were not informed. We thought you were traveling alone." Turning to the coach, Don Alejandro said, "Please, may we welcome your wife to our pueblo, Your Excellency? We do not wish to be thought of as ill-mannered."

"Your pardon, Don Alejandro, but my wife is quite ill," said Santiago. "A lingering illness for which there seems to be no cure. If you will be so kind as to show me to my quarters, I will see that she is made as comfortable as possible and then I will be honored to attend your reception this evening. However, due to my wife's illness, she will not be able to attend."

"Our loss, I am sure," said Don Alejandro, bowing again.

"Graciás," said Santiago. "And now, Don Alejandro which place is to be mine?"

"Across the plaza, Your Excellency," Don Alejandro indicated, holding out his hand to point out the direction, "just up the way from the inn."

"Excellent," said Santiago. "Sergeant? If you please, you will instruct the cochero to drive over there. And bring some of your lancers to help with the luggage. There's a good man." Santiago smiled at the surprised look on Garcia's face. "Apparently my predecessors were not very polite men," he remarked to everyone.

"Yes, Your Excellency," said Garcia. Then he stammered, "I . . . I mean no, Your Excellency. You are the first . . ." He trailed off when he realized that anything he might say would surely lead to trouble.

"It is all right, Sergeant. Just do as I ask and everything will be fine. Don Alejandro and I will walk to my quarters." Santiago bowed to the crowd once more and then motioned to Don Alejandro to lead the way.

As the crowd disbursed and the two men walked across the plaza, Diego and Bernardo watched them go. The Magistrado was pointing to various things in the plaza and it appeared that Don Alejandro was happily describing them to him. Diego turned, and with Bernardo at his side, he went to their carriage which was tied up near the church and got in. Señor Santiago and Don Alejandro were waiting at the curb in front of the Magistrado's house when the coach came around the plaza and pulled up in front of them.

Diego and Bernardo had an excellent view from their carriage. They watched as Santiago handed his portfolio to Sergeant Garcia and opened the door of the coach and got in. In a moment, a servant woman stepped from the coach holding several folded blankets in her arms. Then Santiago got out and turned to help a young woman from the coach. She appeared to be perhaps twenty years of age. The young señora moved very slowly, as though she was made of the finest porcelain and afraid that she might break if she were to move too quickly. The Magistrado was very attentive to her every need. Once she reached the ground, she made as though she would have walked into the house, but apparently she was too weak, for the Magistrado bent down and gently picked her up in his arms. As he waited for Garcia to open the door of the house, the young woman happened to glance in Diego's direction. He smiled at her and she smiled back, gently, almost shyly. Then she was taken away as the Magistrado carried her into the house. The servant woman followed them, but Don Alejandro and the lancers politely remained outside.

"She is apparently quite ill," said Diego under his breath, so that only Bernardo could hear. The servant nodded agreement. They continued to wait.

In a few moments, the Magistrado reappeared. He addressed those who were waiting. "As you can see, Señores, my wife is in very delicate condition due to her illness. I am afraid this long trip has been very hard on my Gracilia. Sergeant, please see that our luggage is taken into the house, but make sure it is done quietly. I do not want Señora Santiago disturbed more than can be helped."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Garcia in all seriousness. "You, lancers. You heard the Magistrado. Take down that luggage and be quick about it. And quiet."

Don Alejandro said, "If there is anything we can do to help?"

"If there is a physician here, can someone be sent to fetch him?" asked Santiago. He did not believe for one moment there was anything more that could be done for Gracilia, but it wouldn't hurt to let the local doctor, if there was one, to examine her. It was what the older don would expect and so it would be done.

"Sí, Your Excellency. I will go to Doctor Avila myself," said Sergeant Garcia. Giving the portfolio back to the Magistrado, he set off at a goodly pace toward the apothecary which was just past the church. Don Alejandro and the Magistrado stood and spoke in low tones while the lancers carried the luggage into the house.

As the Sergeant passed the carriage, Diego motioned to him to stop.

"Sí, Don Diego?" said Garcia. "I cannot tarry long. I must get Doctor Avila for Señora Santiago at once."

"Just what seems to be the problem with the señora?" asked Diego.

"I do not know, Don Diego," said Garcia looking back at the Magistrado's house. "But Señora Gracilia is a very sick woman. With your permission?"

"Of course, Sergeant, please go on," said Diego. Glancing about to see that no one was looking at them, Diego continued to Bernardo, "Our new Magistrado seems to have a heavy personal burden to bear as well as the responsibility of administering justice in the district. It is said that adversity brings out the best or the worst in a man. We shall see what kind of man our new Magistrado is in due time." Bernardo nodded. "I do hope Doctor Avila is able to help Señora Gracilia. I met her once on a trip to Monterey with my father, and she seemed to be a charming señorita." Bernardo smiled in a particular fashion. Diego noticed and said, "No, nothing like that. She and I were much younger then. Perhaps ten or twelve years old. She was a friend of Rosarita Cortez and cousin to Leonar, the Governor's daughter."

Diego stopped speaking as they heard the footsteps of two men coming up from behind the carriage. As the two men passed, they could see that it was Sergeant Garcia and the doctor. They hurried up to the Magistrado and introductions were made. Santiago took his leave of Don Alejandro and the Sergeant, and escorted the doctor into the house just as the last of the lancers came out. Sergeant Garcia dismissed first the coach and then the lancers, trailing his men back to the cuartel. Don Alejandro walked over to the inn, no doubt to check upon the preparations for the Magistrado's reception.

Bernardo motioned that the Magistrado's speech had held much promise.

Diego glanced back at the Magistrado's house and said, "Yes, it did, Bernardo. "It did sound very promising." Bernardo indicated he was unsure. Diego nodded. "Yes, we have had those who spoke well at first, and then turned out to be evil, greedy men. However, as my father indicated a few days ago, we cannot just assume all men are like that. We will watch this new Magistrado and see what he does. Perhaps he will be different from the rest. Perhaps he actually means what he says. We can hope this is true." Bernardo nodded in thoughtful agreement. Diego watched the lancers and Sergeant Garcia enter the cuartel. "Well, there is nothing more to see here. Let us go home. I will be attending the reception for the Magistrado this evening and perhaps I will see if I can draw him out, test his concepts of the justice he seems to hold in such high regard." Nodding, Bernardo took up the reins and urged the mules pulling the carriage into a trot and turned them toward the road leading to the de la Vega hacienda.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

It was a long while before Doctor Avila returned from Gracilia's room to speak with Santiago who had spent his time inspecting the house and making his determinations as to how to distribute his things. He had decided he would hire a manservant on the morrow to set the house to rights. To his mind, the house was already nicely furnished. The late Señor Varga's taste in furniture had been quite refined, it would seem. There would be nothing needed further in that regard, just some dusting and rearrangement. Pausing by a wall, Santiago thoughtfully fingered a hole in the plaster. There were others in the walls here and there besides this one. The bullet holes would need repair. They were a sobering reminder of his predecessor's sudden demise. With one last look, he turned to attend to the doctor who had come out of Gracilia's room. He was careful to place the proper look of concern on his face.

"Yes, Doctor? How is she?" he asked.

"Your wife has had a very hard trip, Your Excellency. She will require complete bed rest for the next few days." Santiago tried very hard not to roll his eyes heavenward as he had known all along that this would be the doctor's diagnosis. Avila continued. "She is to continue on with the same medication which you brought with you from Monterey, but I am increasing the dosage for the next few days while she recovers. If you wish, you may see her now, but I warn you she will be very much under the influence of the laudanum." He indicated the bedroom as an invitation.

Santiago sighed within himself. The rather pompous village doctor did not seem inclined to leave without seeing that the Magistrado attended his wife's bedside. Very well. Nodding to the doctor, he went into the bedroom. The doctor stood in the door watching. Santiago knelt beside the bed and took his wife's hand in his. He suppressed a shudder because there was no warmth in the hand he held. Just as there was no warmth in the eyes which met his.

"Gracilia, dearest, I am here," he said. "The doctor has said that you must rest. Pippa will be here to attend to your every need just as she was in Monterey. You need not want for anything." With a barely perceptible nod, Gracilia acknowledged his words and closed her eyes, falling asleep almost instantly. Santiago lifted the blankets and placed her hand under them to keep it warm. Standing, he paused to gaze upon her for a moment as any loving husband would before turning back to the doctor.

Ushering the man to the front door Santiago said, "Thank you for coming at such short notice, Doctor. I know my wife will receive the best of care with you so close at hand."

Taking this as his due, Avila said, "You are most welcome, Your Excellency. I will come again in the morning to check upon Señora Santiago's progress. If you need me before then, do not hesitate to send for me."

"I shall most certainly do that, Doctor," said Santiago smiling. He bowed as the man left the house. Closing the door and leaning with his back against it, Santiago heaved a silent sigh of relief. Then squaring his shoulders, he decided that he had better things to think of than cluttering his mind with the woman who occupied the bed in the next room. It was fortunate for him that he at least had the choice of two more bedrooms in the house which were suitable to be his sleeping chambers. Their home in Monterey had only had one bedroom for the two of them with a small alcove for the servant woman. Long before they had left Monterey, he had taken to sleeping on the couch in their parlor. He would be glad to get away from Gracilia and her illness and the constant attendance of Pippa who must see to her mistress' needs twenty-four hours a day. Tonight's reception should also take his mind off of Gracilia as well. He was looking forward to it. This very night he would begin to assess those whose lands he intended to acquire for his own. In a much better frame of mind, he sat down in front of the fireplace and began sorting through the official documents he had brought with him from Monterey.


	4. B1 Ch3: The Testing

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 3 – _The Testing_**

When Diego arrived for the reception at the inn, he was amused to find that he would be sitting opposite his father at one end of the table. It was all arranged. At the head of the table, of course, would be the guest of honor, Señor Santiago. It would seem that Don Alejandro still had a father's desire to display his only son before their guest. Next to his father sat the Alcalde, a venerable old gentleman. The remainder of the guests were arranged according to the deference due their ranking in the social hierarchy of the pueblo. They were a colorful lot, each dressed in their finest to honor the Magistrado. Diego had worn the suit he had brought with him from Spain, the same one he had worn when he first met Capitán Monastario. The table was lavishly set with the innkeeper's finest china. The inn's best sheets doubled as the table cloth, a trick Tío had learned under Monastario's rule. Don Alejandro had furnished his own wine, not trusting the innkeeper with the choice. Tío had grumbled at this, but only under his breath, and never in front of Don Alejandro. Sergeant Garcia had selected some of his lancers to do the serving and he was dressed in his finest uniform, adorned with epaulets and his medal, which had been given to him when he had recovered the stolen gunpowder from the Eagle's men. He had earlier sampled the food and wine and had declared them to be excellent. All was in readiness. All that was required was for the Magistrado to appear.

At one minute before eight o'clock, the door to the inn was opened by a lancer and the Magistrado stepped in. Everyone at the table rose. Diego took note of the fact that the Magistrado was still wearing his sword. Rather strange for a man who was attending a reception in his honor, he thought to himself. None of the other men in attendance were wearing their swords. Perhaps he would find an opportunity to remark upon the sword and see what the Magistrado had to say about it. He watched as Sergeant Garcia took the Magistrado's hat and cloak from him and escorted him to the table. Garcia then took up his post near the kitchen, ever mindful of his duty to watch over the food and the wine.

Don Alejandro picked up his wine glass and said, "To the new Magistrado of Los Angeles, Señor Jorgé Martinez Santiago!"

Everyone picked up their glasses and drank to the toast.

The Magistrado said, "I thank you, one and all. Now I propose a toast. To the King!"

"To the King!" cried everyone, and they all drank again.

"Please be seated, Señores," said Santiago, as he seated himself along with them. "I could not ask for more hospitality than you have shown to me in the short time I have been in your pueblo."

"Graciás," said Don Alejandro, bowing slightly. "The pleasure is ours, Excellency." Motioning to Sergeant Garcia, Don Alejandro said, "Sergeant, you may serve now."

As the food was being served, Don Alejandro asked, "Señor Magistrado, may I inquire after Señora Santiago? I trust she is doing well?"

"My wife is asleep, Don Alejandro. It is the best thing for her after the long journey." Santiago did not feel like going into details about Gracilia's condition. "But thank you for asking."

Sensing the Magistrado wished to leave the subject, Don Alejandro said, "Your Excellency, may I introduce you to my son, Diego?"

"Don Diego," said the Magistrado in greeting.

"Your Excellency," returned Diego, saluting with his wine glass and bowing from the waist.

"My son attended the university in Madrid and has only returned within the last year," said Don Alejandro.

Santiago looked upon Diego with sharper interest. "Oh, is that so?" he said. "I was also educated at the same university, Don Diego. Tell me, were you taught the fine art of fencing? Some of the world's greatest fencing masters are at the university." He was hoping that he could find a worthy opponent in the younger man. He needed a fencing partner to keep his skills sharpened.

"Oh, no, no, Your Excellency," said Diego, falling into his routine with ease. "I much preferred my scholarly studies to that of athletic competition. All those men running at each other with swords? No, I could not see myself doing that."

Santiago was disappointed by the answer, but he happened to glance at Diego's father as the son was speaking and noticed the grimace that Don Alejandro tried to hide. _So,_ he thought to himself, _There is a schism here. This will bear watching._ Out loud he said, "That is too bad. I take great pleasure in the art and was hoping to find a fencing partner to practice against." Taking in Diego's glance at the scar on his face, he continued. "I see you are looking at this." He brushed his fingers lightly along its length.

"I had believed that I knew how to use a sword, but I was proven wrong. Once." Smiling, he pulled his sword partly out of the scabbard. Diego could see the intricate engraving and metalwork that had gone into the hilt of the sword as could Don Alejandro and the others. "This sword was presented to me by Masterswordsman Fuente de Vida, the finest swordsman in Spain." He paused for effect. "After I had defeated him." He rather enjoyed the reactions among the men. Some of them had obviously heard of the fencing master even in this remote outpost. "In his honor, I wear it at all times when I am in public. It is a promise I have made. De Vida gave me both this," he indicated the scar, "and this," he indicated the sword.

Diego knew of de Vida. He was no longer teaching at the university when Diego had attended some dozen years after Santiago would have been there, but he had come from time to time to watch the new students and to confer with the fencing masters. Diego had even fenced against the aging man once in the first year of his schooling and was handed his head. The man had forgotten more about fencing than Diego could have ever imagined learning up until that time. From that moment on, Diego had set his sights on becoming a master like de Vida and had been but a fingerbreadth away from achieving that goal before he had been required to return home. He would like to have had one more opportunity to fence with de Vida; to show him what he had learned in his time as Zorro, but that would never be. However, next to him sat a man who had defeated Fuente de Vida when de Vida was still in his prime. Diego was quite impressed with Señor Santiago's story, but of course, he composed himself and did not reveal it.

"It is a fine sword, Your Excellency. The workmanship is exquisite," was all he said.

"Graciás," said Santiago, glancing at the father, who was looking . . . embarrassed perhaps, at his son's lack of interest in fencing? The relationship between these two would indeed be interesting to watch.

"Er, um, Your Excellency?" said Don Alejandro, clearing his throat. "May I now introduce Ricardo Morelos, Alcalde for the pueblo?" The Alcalde bowed.

Santiago turned his attention to the other men at the table as Don Alejandro introduced them one by one. The meal progressed and he learned something about who all of these men were and who among them were the true leaders in the community. He soon saw that all the men deferred to Don Alejandro as their natural leader. Santiago could see the spark of fire in the old man and could well imagine that he was quite capable of leading others. This made the older man all the more interesting in light of his plans for acquiring vast portions of California for his own. Don Alejandro could be just the man he was looking for to become the next "threat" to California. But he would move slowly and cautiously. There was more than enough time to pick his scapegoat. For now, he just wanted to be accepted by the inhabitants of this district as an honest officer of the King in order to lay the groundwork for what was to come.

As it was natural, the topic of conversation turned to the former Magistrado, Carlos Galindo, and of José Varga, The Eagle. Diego listened for a few minutes and then decided to liven things up a bit. Taking a sip from his wine glass, he said, "Señor Magistrado. May I ask what will become of the property and monies acquired by those two corrupt men while they were here? I believe these valuables are locked up in the strong box at the cuartel awaiting some action or other by the government." There were nods around the table as many had wondered the same thing.

"In what way do you mean, Don Diego?" asked Santiago. "All money and properties of those known to be traitors are subject to confiscation and are now the property of the King."

Diego said, "Your Excellency, perhaps you do not know this, but some of those monies were taxes collected illegally from the people of Los Angeles, not only from some of those here in this room, but of the peons and rancheros as well. Many of those people are facing hard times because of it." Diego watched Santiago closely. His reaction to Diego's statements could tell him much.

Santiago looked at Diego for a moment before answering. He saw a sincere young man. He had the impression that the young don had sympathies for the lower class; such notions were prevalent in the liberal arts education Diego had obviously chosen for himself. Then Santiago turned and looked at all the others at the table. Instantly, he sensed that he could make a good impression on all of them with his answer. He would give them back their money, even the peons. This would be the first foundation stone in building his honorable reputation among them. These thoughts took no more than a moment. "Señores," he said. "It is true the property and valuables in the possession of traitors are confiscated. It is the law. However, the King does not wish to be unfair to those who were hurt by the actions of such men. I will personally go over the records and see that all the money illegally taken is restored to those who were forced to hand it over to those criminals. Today is the fifteenth of the month. Allow me until, say, a week from today to examine the records, take an inventory of what is being held at the cuartel, and make my determinations. Then, on the twenty second day of this month, at noon, we will begin the return of monies to all who were overtaxed. This I will do in order to see that _'Justice is served.'_ "

Everyone at the table recognized the Magistrado's motto. They began speaking to one another of the Magistrado's promise with approval. There were smiles all around. Sergeant Garcia clasped his hands together and smiled with delight. He was very sympathetic to the plight of the peons and rancheros.

Diego cocked his head and smiled, mostly to himself. He was impressed with the man's answer. It was so different from the answer Santiago's predecessors would have given. The man seemed to have a desire to do what was right for the people, and this return of the tax money was a good beginning. He looked across the table from him as Don Alejandro tapped his wine glass.

"Señores! Another toast," the elder de la Vega said, holding up his glass. "To justice!"

Diego held his glass up with the others as they all cried, "To justice!" His eyes met Santiago's for a moment, and then he smiled as the Magistrado raised an eyebrow and bowed slightly in his direction. Then they all drank to the toast.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

True to his word, during the next week the new Magistrado examined the records and made his inventory. Secretly, he was surprised at how much money was in the Sergeant's strong box. He was sure that in any other district in California, most of the money would have been "spirited" away by now. Garcia was apparently an honest soldier, one of the more rare species of soldiers in the world. Santiago might have replaced Garcia with his own man, Capitán Hidalgo from the garrison at Santa Barbara, but he kept the portly Sergeant on as the acting commandanté of the pueblo because he could see that the man could be easily manipulated. Anything he wanted could be done right in the open and Garcia would be none the wiser as long as Santiago had a reasonable explanation at the ready. There were also titles and deeds to lands on the outskirts of the Los Angeles district in the box, which Santiago took to his office to examine. Garcia deferred to the Magistrado in this and let him take care of the matter of the deeds. He was glad to be rid of them. As Santiago examined the papers, he realized that the former owners were either dead or missing. There was no one to claim the lands. He was sure his previous services to the king in rounding up those traitorous criminals in Monterey meant that he was deserving of receiving these lands as his recompense. At least, that is what he told himself as he signed the deeds over to himself and hid them away.

At noon on the appointed day, everyone who was due to have their money returned gathered in the plaza, dons and peons alike. Santiago was seated at the table which he had ordered placed in front of the cuartel gates. The tax ledger was opened and placed on the table next to the iron banded money box. Sergeant Garcia stood at his side. Corporal Reyes and some of the other lancers were stationed on either side of the cuartel gates. Santiago nodded to Garcia who stepped in front of the table to make an announcement.

"Attention! Attention!" his voice boomed out over the plaza. "It is time. As His Excellency, the Magistrado has promised, we will now begin the return of the tax money taken illegally from the people. Present yourselves one at a time to the Magistrado and state your name, where you live and how much you think you are due. He will check his records, and if they agree, you will get the money. First, His Excellency wishes all the dons who are present to come forward."

As Diego had managed to convince Varga's false tax collector that the de la Vega's did not owe any taxes by use of his eagle's feather, the de la Vega's were not due any return of funds. But Diego had come to see for himself just what would happen this day. He and Bernardo sat in their carriage by the church and watched as the dons lined up and one by one they received their money. The Magistrado carefully checked his figures for each applicant and made notations in his ledger book. He spoke with each man and personally handed over the money from the box. Diego could see that the dons were impressed by the Magistrado's personal attentions. He could see the excitement among the other people, rancheros and peons, as they too talked happily amongst themselves about the money they would be receiving. Bernardo motioned to indicate the people and smiled to show their happiness.

Diego turned to look at the people again. "Yes, Bernardo, it is good to see them smiling again," he said in a low tone. "They worked hard for their money and it had been taken away from them illegally. Now they will be able to buy the food and supplies they need to help their families."

Bernardo looked at his young master's profile. He saw a compassion for the people that was being fulfilled this day. It made him proud to know that he served a man with such a heart. Diego could be a man with the courage of a lion when he needed to be, combined with the sharp and cunning mind of the fox when strength alone would not win the day. But a warm heart of compassion beat within the young man's breast that resonated with Bernardo's own. He would like to shout to those people out in the plaza that his master was the one whom they should be thanking, not the Magistrado. But, perhaps, God thought it best for him not to do so for he had taken Bernardo's speech from him at birth. And, as he looked at Diego, he realized that the young man did not want to claim recognition for what he had done. He only wanted to see that justice was done and that things were made right again.

But that was not entirely true either. There was one man from whom Diego longed to receive recognition and respect. That was Don Alejandro, Diego's father. However, as long as Diego chose to ride as Zorro, that respect might never come. For the man Diego had chosen to be in order that Zorro might live was not a man that Don Alejandro could ever find within himself to respect. Tolerate? Perhaps. But respect? No. Even though Bernardo knew that Don Alejandro loved his son deeply despite his perceived failings, the respect that Diego longed for was not to be.

Bernardo sighed. It was a sad thing to see Diego and his father together when Don Alejandro was not pleased with the way Diego had turned out. As each crisis had come up since their arrival from Spain, Diego had been forced to listen to Don Alejandro's displeasure over his lack of being the man of his father's expectations. Only Bernardo knew the anguish of his young master's heart. But he also knew the anguish in the father's heart for a son he could not understand. As with those people out there in the plaza right now, he had often longed to tell Don Alejandro about Diego, to let him know of his son's nocturnal activities and that he had a son of whom he could be proud. But he could not. Not because he was unable to speak, but because it was not his place to do so. To do so would break the trust that Diego had in him as a servant and as a friend.

No, he would have to let Diego make his own choices in this. Diego would have to decide when the time was right, if it ever was, to tell his father his secrets. Until then, Bernardo would do what he had always done. Remain loyally by his master's side, ready to do anything that was required. Even to the risking of his own life to save that of his master's. For his life would mean nothing to him if Diego should perish.

His thoughts were interrupted as Diego elbowed him in the ribs gently and said, "Ah, look now. There is Franco Barbarosa getting his money. Good. That is good. He is the last of the rancheros. And now the peons. See? There? Fifth in line is little Paco."

Bernardo looked around and made a little sign of the "Z" for Diego to see.

"Yes, Bernardo. He is the one Zorro rescued from Galindo's sentence of death," said Diego with satisfaction. "And now he will get the money he so desperately needs for his family." They watched as Paco reached the head of the line and held out his hand to receive his money. For a moment, he just stood and looked at the coins as if he did not believe that they really were there. Then he closed his fist around the money and held it up high as he turned around and smiled hugely at the remaining crowd. All of his friends laughed happily with him. Paco opened his hand and looked at the money again. Then he turned to the Magistrado and bowed deeply, thanking him before he ran off in the direction of his home to show the money to his wife and children. The other peons crowded together as they eagerly awaited their turn to speak to the Magistrado.

Diego leaned back in his carriage with a very satisfied look on his face as he watched the scene. He and Bernardo watched until the last peon had been given his money. Then Diego said, "Come, I wish to speak to the Magistrado." They got out of the carriage and approached the table, standing to one side as the Magistrado finished marking his ledger book. Stepping up, Diego said, "I see that the money box is empty, Your Excellency. Your accounting is very precise."

Santiago looked up and said, "Well, Don Diego," in a friendly greeting. "I saw you watching from your carriage over the way. Was everything done to your satisfaction?"

"Sí, Your Excellency," replied Diego. "I have never seen the people happier. It has been a good day for the pueblo."

Santiago stood up, closing his ledger book and then the lid to the empty money box. He turned to the Sergeant. "Sergeant Garcia, you may dismiss the men and take these things away. Our work here is done."

Garcia saluted and said, "Sí, Magistrado." He motioned to his lancers to come and move the table.

Santiago tucked the ledger book under his arm. Returning his attention back to Diego, he said, "Yes, the people are happy for the moment. But soon, the money they have received will be gone and they will be in want again. We need to do something to make this district more prosperous so that all will benefit. California needs to become strong again after the dark times we have just been through and there is nothing like prosperity to bring the people together. What do you think, Don Diego?"

Diego was pleased. It had been a long time since anyone in the government had spoken ideas like this. "I think you are correct, Your Excellency. California needs to be united in order to withstand our enemies from without and from within. Wars and civil strife are such a messy business." Diego let a look of distaste pass over his face for Santiago's benefit. "How much better it is for us to concentrate on making California a prosperous colony of His Majesty."

"I am glad you agree, Don Diego," said Santiago. "I will give the matter some more thought. Now if you will excuse me, there are some things I wish to discuss with the Sergeant."

Diego bowed, "Of course, Your Excellency." He and Bernardo watched Santiago walk into the cuartel. In a low voice, he said, "Let us go to the tavern for a while, Bernardo. It will be a lively place today." Bernardo nodded and grinned.


	5. B1 Ch4: The Celebration

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 4 – _The Celebration_**

Several hours later, the tavern was still full of people celebrating their turn of fortune. Diego had been persuaded to play his guitar and sing a few songs. He was in the middle of a ballad when the Magistrado came into the room. Motioning for him to continue, the Magistrado sat at a corner table while Tío fussed over him. The Magistrado ordered a meal and some wine, then sat back to listen. He clapped with the others when Diego had finished.

Diego would have put his guitar down, but Santiago spoke up and said, "Do you know 'La Gaviota', Don Diego? I have not heard it for some time."

Diego smiled and strummed the guitar as he said, "Sí, Your Excellency." He began singing and Maria Crespo and some of the other bar maids stopped to listen to the lively song.

Santiago noticed that all of the tavern's customers had also stopped to listen. The young man did have a fine voice, he thought to himself. He found he enjoyed the song thoroughly. He was glad to have somewhere else to go rather than staying in his home where everything was so somber. He remembered back to the frequent parties that Gracilia had insisted upon having in Monterey so that she could be with her friends. He had not objected, for he found them entertaining as well. But when his wife had been taken by this insidious illness of hers, she had lost her desire for laughter and gay company, the constant pain taking the joy out of her life. So Santiago had to find his entertainment where he could. This lively inn with the bright lights and music was just the thing for him tonight. He clapped once again when the young don finished his song.

Diego looked at the Magistrado who motioned him to continue. He decided to play a favorite piece of his which he had written for the guitar only. The fingerings were quite difficult, but he enjoyed the challenge and bent over his guitar in intense concentration. One of the bar maids began to dance and soon everyone was clapping and shouting their approval.

While Diego played, Tío himself brought the food and wine to the Magistrado as he would let no one else do the serving. He was making a fortune today thanks to the Magistrado's generosity.

Santiago motioned for him to lean over. Pointing to Diego, he said, "Does young de la Vega come here often?"

"Oh, sí," said Tío, smiling. "Don Diego is one of my best customers. He comes here to my tavern to drink wine and play the guitar."

"And what does his father think of this?"

Tío looked around furtively, but he was a gossip, and this was the Magistrado after all. "Oh, his father is not happy about it," he said in a low tone. "He would rather that his son should spend more time at the rancho working with him, but Don Diego prefers his books and music to cattle, which are messy."

"His father does not force him to work on the rancho? To learn the cattle business?"

"Oh, no, Señor Magistrado," said Tío. Then leaning down even closer, he said, "I think it is because the boy lost his mother when he was so young. He is Don Alejandro's only son and heir. He loves the son for his mother's sake."

"Very interesting," said Santiago, more to himself than to the innkeeper. "Thank you. You may go." Tío bowed and left. Santiago eyed Diego with renewed interest as he ate his dinner. He found the de la Vegas to be fascinating. A father who wanted a manly son to follow in his footsteps and a son who apparently had no such desire. He was beginning to see how these two might just be the ones on whom he could hang his charges of treason. But he was a cautious man. He had time. He would continue to study the de la Vegas and learn all he could about them before putting his plan into motion.

The Magistrado remained at the tavern for quite a while, listening to the music and watching the various dancers that twirled around the floor from time to time. He greeted those who came to thank him once again for returning their money. He enjoyed himself immensely. As the night grew deeper, he got up to leave, placing a generous tip on the table for Tio's service. He bowed to Diego in thanks for his music and then turned to go.

Diego, who was playing another tune on his guitar, returned the bow and watched the Magistrado leave the tavern. He had thought he might be able to go to the man's table and engage him in conversation, but the tavern's customers had demanded his attention. And, as the Magistrado had seemed to be enjoying the music, he had continued to play for him.

At last, the people relented and gave Diego a rest, allowing him to go and sit at a table and order a glass of wine. Sergeant Garcia and Corporal Reyes came in then and began looking around for a place to sit. Their eyes found Diego and he motioned them over, knowing they would have come to him in any case. Garcia smiled hugely and even Reyes looked pleased.

"Ah, Don Diego!" said the Sergeant happily. "It is good to see you. May we join you?"

"Please do, Sergeant," said Diego, pulling a cigar from his jacket pocket and lighting it from the candle on the table. He smiled to see them eagerly pull chairs from other tables to join him at his. Blowing smoke into the air, he said, "Maria. A bottle of wine for my friends, eh?" Maria smiled and hurried to get the wine. Soon all of them were enjoying a glass.

"Graciás, Don Diego," said Garcia. "We have been hard at work this afternoon and this is just what we need."

"Oh?" said Diego. "And just what kind of hard work have you been doing?" He knew that his definition of hard work sometimes differed from that of the sergeant's.

"The Magistrado ordered us to pull out all of our bedding and furniture from the barracks and the office and give them a good cleaning before we put them back. Tomorrow we are to start giving the whole cuartel a new coat of whitewash. After that, we will be taking inventory of the armament of the cuartel. He wishes to inspect each weapon himself and make sure they are all in working order."

Diego was impressed. "That is quite an undertaking, Sergeant. The next thing you know, he will be telling you to polish all the musket balls," he said, with some amusement.

"Oh, that is next," Corporal Reyes piped up.

"Be quiet, _baboso_ ," said Garcia, giving Reyes a longsuffering look. To Diego, he explained, "I just told them that when they complained about pulling out their bedding."

Trying not to shake his head, Diego kept his composure. "What is the purpose of all this activity, Sergeant?" he asked.

"The Magistrado has this idea. He says we should take pride in our cuartel and keep it clean. He says attention to detail is what will make us better soldiers. I hope he is right. I would hate to think that we had done all of this work for nothing." He took another drink of his wine.

Diego took the opportunity to ask about Santiago. "Sergeant, what do you think about our new Magistrado?"

"Think about him?" asked Garcia.

"Sí. You have been around him for a week now. Is he like the others? You know, Monastario and Galindo?"

"Oh, no, Don Diego. He is nothing like those others."

"Those others were skunks," said Reyes, looking into his glass.

"Well, we do not need to wonder what the good Corporal thinks about Señor Santiago's predecessors," laughed Diego.

Garcia gave Reyes a look. Then he said, "I will tell you this, Don Diego. Part of the money in the cuartel's strong box was pay for us soldiers that the Eagle had stolen. When the Magistrado found out about this, he said, 'Garcia, why have you not taken this money and paid the soldiers?' And I said, 'I was instructed by the Governor to seize all the money and valuables belonging to Señor Varga and place them in my strong box. And that is just what I did.' The Magistrado, he just shook his head and said, 'How long have you been without pay?' And I said, 'Four months, Your Excellency.' And he said, 'That is about to change, Sergeant.' And he had me get the pay records for the cuartel, and with his own hand, he paid all of us soldiers the back pay we were due this very afternoon. If either of the others had been in charge, I doubt very much if we would ever have been paid."

"Never," affirmed Reyes.

"That is good news, Sergeant!" said Diego, who was genuinely glad for his friends. "That would seem to be quite a boost for morale." Diego knew that the soldiers of His Majesty's government were usually among the last men to get paid, leaving them eternally in debt to each other and to the merchants of the pueblo. He also secretly admired the way the Magistrado had handled the soldier's pay. It seemed this Magistrado was willing to do what was right because it was right and not just to make himself look good. With the return of the tax money and the back pay for the soldiers, it seemed that everyone in the pueblo had reason to celebrate today.

"Sí, Don Diego, morale is good now," replied Garcia, smiling. "The men were happy to finish cleaning their quarters this afternoon, weren't they Corporal?"

"Sí," said Reyes. "Money always improves morale."

Diego laughed and raised his glass to them. "To the Magistrado," he said. Echoing his sentiments, they all took a drink.

"It is too bad about Señora Santaigo though," Garcia said, thoughtfully. "I do not believe she has come out of her house since she arrived and Doctor Avila sees her every day."

"Just what kind of illness does she have?" asked Diego.

"I do not know, Don Diego, but the Magistrado does not like to talk about it. He always changes the subject when it comes up. I think it makes him very sad for her."

"I will ask Padre Felipe to say a prayer for her the next time I see him," said Diego.

"A good idea, Don Diego," said Garcia, brightening. "The Señora's illness will not keep the Magistrado from performing his duties though. He has already ordered us to increase our patrols of the district and he has plans to ride with us."

"And why is that, Sergeant?" asked Diego.

"He said that he wishes to meet the people and see where they live. He feels that he needs this in order to understand their problems."

Diego was again impressed with the new Magistrado. No other official had ever taken such an interest in the day to day welfare of the people. Not even those who had held the office in the time before he went to Spain. "That sounds like a very good idea, Sergeant," he said.

Garcia leaned closer to Diego and said, "I think this Magistrado is going to be a good one, Don Diego. I just have a feeling." Then he leaned back and poured his glass full again. He drained it quickly and motioned to Maria, saying with a big smile on his face, "I am paying for this one!" as he happily pulled out a peso and placed it on the table.

Diego smiled and sat back in his chair. Yes, this was the best day this pueblo had enjoyed since the removal of Monastario by the Viceroy and Sergeant Garcia had declared a holiday in honor of his own promotion. After the death of the Eagle, the pueblo had been relieved of a great burden, but then she had just drifted along without anyone to really guide her. The large landholders had all they could do to keep their ranchos going and could not be concerned all that much with the goings on in the pueblo, and the people of the pueblo only cared about what the hacendados would buy from them. But today, they all had one thing in common, the hope that the new Magistrado would maintain the peace and promote law and order.

When Diego was finally ready to go home, he had to awaken Bernardo who had fallen asleep in a corner of the tavern. The servant followed Diego out into the night air. Rubbing sleepy eyes, he climbed into the carriage and picked up the reins. "Here let me take those," said Diego fondly. "You are liable to run us into a ravine before we get home." He smiled at his mozo as Bernardo nodded sleepily. "What is the matter with you, my friend?" he asked as he urged the horses into a ground eating trot. "There was a time when you would stay up all night with me."

Bernardo scrubbed his face and motioned with his hands. "Oh, you need some reason to stay awake?" More signs. "El Zorro was the reason you were able to stay awake?" A nod. "Oh, so I am not worth staying awake for? I am . . . dull?" Diego asked dryly. Bernardo nodded his head 'yes' before he caught himself and looked sheepish. Diego slapped him good naturedly on the back and laughed. "That is all right, my friend. I too am glad to be able to sleep at night. I will try to make sure you are tucked safely into your bed at a decent hour from now on. How is that?" Bernardo smiled and nodded. Rather more awake now, he took the reins from Diego and proceeded to drive them home.


	6. B1 Ch5: Measuring the de la Vegas

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 5 – _Measuring the de la Vegas_**

Santiago wiped the perspiration from his brow as he stepped back and let Don Alfonso pick up his sword. The crowd gathered in the courtyard of the inn murmured appreciatively regarding the display they had just witnessed. Don Alfonso was quite a good swordsman, but obviously no match for the Magistrado. The caballero was not through however, and after he picked up his sword, he resumed his stance, waiting for the Magistrado to favor him with another round. Bowing generously, Santiago granted his request with a lightning fast opening. Don Alfonso met the challenge and they sparred back and forth.

Diego and his father stood with some of the others and watched the exhibition. The Magistrado had let it be known that he would welcome the chance to fence with anyone who wished to try their skills against him whenever he came to the tavern. He needed the exercise and the chance to maintain his skills. From what Diego could learn, the Magistrado never lost any of his matches, but no one seemed to mind. He remained a gentleman at all times and even took the time to give lessons and pointers to those who faced him. Many of the caballeros appreciated the help. They knew Santiago had trained with the best and were glad to learn from him. The Magistrado also held weekly classes at the cuartel, training the soldiers to become better swordsmen. Diego smiled ruefully at that notion. If he ever had to tangle with the lancers again as Zorro, he would have to be much more careful than before. The pueblo's soldiers had been only adequate swordsmen up until now. With the extra training from the Magistrado, they could pose quite a problem. But that was something he would deal with at a later time. Right now, he just enjoyed watching the match.

As some in the crowd cried, "Bravo! Bravo!" at the fencers, Diego studied the Magistrado using his own knowledge and experience. He could indeed see why Señor Santiago had been able to defeat de Vida. He was fast, but not only fast, he was decisive. He seemed to be able to anticipate his opponent's next move and then he would be there first, causing the man who faced him to remain on the defensive most of the time. He executed all of his moves flawlessly and precisely. Diego rubbed the back of his neck as he realized he could find no fault in any of Santiago's moves. He would like nothing better than to be able to test his blade against that of the Magistrado's. His blood quickened as he turned the idea over in his mind, imagining the moves he would make to counter the Magistrado's. During his time as Zorro, he had honed his own skills beyond that which he had learned in Spain, necessity being the true mother of invention. He doubted that any of his former fencing instructors would recognize some of the moves he was able to make, which he had learned while trying to stay alive. Sighing within himself, he realized that more than likely, he would never have such a chance to fence with the Magistrado. Nevertheless, he watched the rest of the match with keen interest.

Beside him, Don Alejandro also watched the match with enthusiasm. He enjoyed watching a good bout of fencing whenever the opportunity presented itself. He knew that his skills were no match for the Magistrado's, but his own blood rose as he watched. If he were only younger . . . . He glanced up at his son's face for a moment and then looked back at the contestants. Then he looked at Diego again, more closely this time. He was surprised at the intense look on Diego's face behind the smile he wore. It was almost the same look his face would have had if he had been Diego's age. Was he recognizing some part of himself in his son at last? Diego then became aware that he was the one being watched and not the fencers. In a moment, so fast that Don Alejandro almost questioned what he had seen, the hungry look on Diego's face was replaced by one of bemusement. It was almost as if his son had returned from being someone else.

"Ah, Father," Diego said, brightly. "The Magistrado puts on a good display, does he not? Though I do not see the necessity of so much activity, it does relieve the boredom of a long afternoon. Don Alfonso is going to be quite stiff and sore tomorrow, if I am any judge."

Swallowing his disappointment, Don Alejandro replied, "Sí, Don Alfonso will certainly need some liniment for his aching muscles." He turned back in time to watch as Santiago sent the man's sword flying once again. Bows were exchanged and the two fencers came together as the Magistrado pointed out some of Don Alfonso's weaknesses. Don Alfonso watched Santiago demonstrate a particular move and then tried to imitate him. Looking back at Diego who had turned to speak to another person in the courtyard, Don Alejandro wondered for the hundredth time what had happened to his son while he was away in Spain. Before that journey, he had spent time with Diego, teaching him the rudiments of fencing. The boy had loved the experience with the sword and was on his way to becoming a fine swordsman. Don Alejandro knew he had seen the potential in his son and had been sure that when Diego returned from Spain, he would have been an accomplished swordsman. That had been part of the reason he had sent for Diego on such short notice when Capitán Monastario was troubling the district. Also, with a few more years of maturity on him, Diego, being a de la Vega, should have been more than a match for any man. When Don Alejandro had been Diego's age, he would have stood before the world and defended the de la Vega lands and honor with his life. No, he could not understand this son of his.

Out in the courtyard, Santiago finished with Don Alfonso and went to gather his jacket and scabbard from the table. He buckled the scabbard on and sheathed his sword. Carrying his jacket, for he was still warm from his exertions, he paused for a moment as he saw Don Alejandro looking somberly at his son. Diego was talking and laughing with a few other men as they turned and went into the tavern leaving the elder de la Vega behind. Don Alejandro watched them go, then pulled his hat up on his head and drew the string up under his chin.

Santiago approached Don Alejandro. "Señor de la Vega! So good to see you here today," he said. "I trust you enjoyed our little spectacle?" He could see Don Alejandro set aside whatever his thoughts had been about his son as he addressed the Magistrado.

"Sí, Your Excellency," said Don Alejandro. "I have never seen a finer example of fencing here in this pueblo. My complements."

"Graciás, Don Alejandro." And now to probe. "I see that your son even consented to watch for a bit. Perhaps he is becoming interested in the sport? I would be glad to give him lessons."

"Er, . . . um, I do not believe that is his wish, Your Excellency," said Don Alejandro, clearly embarrassed. "His interests still lie elsewhere, I'm afraid."

"That is too bad," said Santiago, trying not to sound too condescending, but letting Don Alejandro get that impression. "A young man such as he should not pass up such an opportunity. But that, of course, is your decision and his to make. Will you join me in a glass of wine?"

Don Alejandro was in no mood to sit in a tavern with the Magistrado while Diego and his friends were having a good time across the room from him. He was already uncomfortable with the current topic and who knew whether or not the Magistrado would return to it? "Please excuse me, Your Excellency, but I do need to return to the rancho," he said. "I delayed longer than I should have for the chance to see you fence this afternoon. Con permisso?" Don Alejandro bowed and turned to leave.

Santiago narrowed his eyes and a small smile formed on his lips as he watched the elder de la Vega go out by the back gate of the inn. He had indeed found the sore spot in the de la Vega household. Putting on his jacket, he decided to go into the inn for some refreshment before going back to his own home. He found Diego, not sitting with his friends as he had expected, but at a table next to the fireplace, alone. There was something vulnerable about the young man as he sat there nursing a glass of wine. Perhaps here was an opportunity to probe the other half of the de la Vega family. He approached the table and Diego looked up.

"May I join you?" Santiago asked.

Smiling, Diego said, "Most certainly, Your Excellency." He motioned to the barmaid to come over.

"A glass of wine," said Santiago. As the barmaid left, he said, "I invited your father to join me for some wine, but he said he had to return to the rancho. He is quite a busy man, isn't he?" To the barmaid, he said, "Graciás," as he tossed a coin to her for the glass of wine which she had set before him.

"Sí," said Diego. Although he did not feel like it, he clothed himself with his Diego persona as he said with a smile, "Father would not know what to do with himself if he did not have the rancho to manage."

"Like so many others I have met since I arrived from Spain, the land here has become his life's blood," said Santiago.

"Sí," agreed Diego.

"Is it in your blood also, Diego?" Santiago asked, looking over the rim of his glass.

Diego looked sharply at the Magistrado. Was there more to this question than there appeared to be on the surface? Looking carefully at the Magistrado, he decided that there was not. He chided himself for being overly sensitive because of how he had acted with his father out in the courtyard just a few moments ago. He had been sitting here alone in the tavern thinking about his life as it was at the moment. He was becoming restless with his idleness. He wanted more. Hiding who he really was was becoming more difficult all the time. More so, it seemed, now that Zorro was idle.

Answering in the best way he could at the moment, he said, "I am a loyal subject of the King and am content to live on Spanish soil, be it here or in the mother country herself."

Laughing, Santiago drained his glass. "Well said, my young friend. With an attitude like that you would do well in His Majesty's government. Those of us like myself, must be willing to be assigned to any post in His Majesty's vast empire and call it home. Well, I must be going, Don Diego. I must look in on my wife before returning to my duties."

"I am sorry that I have not had the opportunity to greet your wife, Your Excellency," said Diego. "Is she faring any better under the ministrations of our good Doctor Avila?"

"No, I am afraid not, Don Diego. Her illness is such that there is very little to be done other than making her as comfortable as possible. The doctor has done his best, but he has nothing new to offer in the way of a cure."

"Please take to her my best wishes and tell her I still remember how she laughed at me when last we met," said Diego.

Santiago was surprised. "You know my wife?"

Diego smiled. "Sí, Your Excellency. It was some years ago. She was still wearing pigtails at the time."

Santiago returned the smile. "So you were just children when you last saw each other?"

"Sí, Your Excellency. If she is well enough, ask her about the burro who went to confession."

"Burro?" exclaimed Santiago.

"Sí," laughed Diego. "I must claim to be embarrassed with the telling, but perhaps it will bring a moment of happiness to Señora Gracilia to remember the story."

"I will ask her indeed," said Santiago. "I cannot wait to hear the tale myself. Promise me that if she is too ill to speak of it, you will enlighten me, Diego. I must hear this story."

"Agreed, Your Excellency. It would be my pleasure," said Diego bowing slightly.

Santiago took his leave of Diego and left the tavern. _Well, the world is a small place,_ he thought to himself. _It is only natural that Diego would meet Gracilia when Don Alejandro would have traveled to Monterey on business. A burro who went to confession. That is a story I would like to hear._ Smiling to himself, he walked across the plaza to his house.


	7. B1 Ch6: The Burro's Confession

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 6 – _The Burro's Confession_**

Entering his home, Santiago was immediately sobered as always. The need for quiet meant that everything was subdued within the house. The lights were kept low and the servants were instructed to move about as quietly as possible. Gracilia had recovered some small portion of her strength and was able to get out of bed for brief periods and take short walks within the house, but that was all. Her pain was ever present, but she took the medicine and held the affliction at bay as well as she could. She was seated in the great room in front of the fire as he approached. He noted again the deepening shadows under her eyes which stood out against the pale thinness of her face. She looked up at him with eyes that were dulled with laudanum or her illness. Or was it something else? He searched in vain for the remnants of the woman he had married as he looked into her eyes. No, there was only a hollow shell remaining. He sighed, not caring if she knew it.

Gracilia noted Jorgé's disappointment with a detachment that left her unmoved. She made no attempt to find it within herself to care one way or another about his feelings. There was just nothing left. She did not ascribe her current lack of emotions completely to the affects of her medicine or her illness. In the last year, she had watched her husband withdraw from her as her illness progressed. At first, he was attentive and caring, seeing to her needs himself. Then, as the realization came that she would never get any better, and perhaps would grow worse, she could see him pulling back, letting Pippa take over her care entirely. She had tried reaching out to him, needing the comfort of her husband to give her strength, but he had withdrawn. Oh, as long as he needed to portray the caring husband before her uncle the governor, or other notable personages who came to Monterey from time to time, he was quite attentive to her. But as soon as they were alone, things returned to normal. Or at least what passed for normal in their household now. She came to know he saw her as an impediment to the lifestyle he felt was his due. Because there was nothing she could do to change that, she pulled back within herself and merely lived from day to day. She did not let herself feel anything, but deep within the recesses of her heart, buried in a place she would not acknowledge even to herself, she cried for what was lost.

Only Santiago's desire to find out more about Diego de la Vega led him to speak to his wife now. He came around to sit in the chair next to hers, settling his sword beside him. "My dear," he said. "I have just had an interesting bit of conversation with someone who knew you in your youth." Gracilia continued to gaze into the fire without comment. Continuing, Santiago said, "It was Diego de la Vega who spoke of you." At first, Gracilia did not seem to acknowledge the name, but after a moment she raised her eyes to meet Santiago's. "Yes, my dear. Diego de la Vega. I believe you saw him the first day we arrived in the pueblo. He was the young caballero sitting in the carriage near the church. Do you remember? He asked me to extend to you his best wishes and he asked me to remind you of a certain burro. . . who attended confession?"

Gracilia remained unmoved for several moments and then an almost imperceptible smile found its way to her lips. So, her heart still harbored some life after all, she discovered to her surprise. She nodded slowly. Yes, now she remembered the handsome young man in the carriage. So that was Diego de la Vega. She had always known that Diego would turn out to be quite handsome when he grew up. She remembered his smile most of all. The burro? And Diego? One of her fondest childhood memories. Her smile grew just a little more as she recalled the event to mind.

Santiago was intrigued. This was the most emotion he could remember his wife displaying in quite some time. He wanted to know the story even more now. "Can you tell me the story, Gracilia? How did a burro come to go to confession? And how were you and Diego de la Vega involved?"

Gracilia took a deep breath and slowly let it out. In a quiet and monotone voice, she began to speak as she returned her gaze into the fire. "I was a girl of about nine when Diego de la Vega came to Monterey with his father," she said. "He was but a few years older than I. My father had given me a little burro to ride as a present on my birthday. Diego, Rosarita Cortez, and I took turns riding him all over the town. When it was Diego's turn, he leaped upon the burro's back and taking a long stick, proceeded to joust with some of the townspeople as if he were a great knight. It was really very funny to see him charging at fat old Luis, the baker, who was carrying a tray of baked goods to the governor's house. Diego accidentally caught his lance in old Luis' apron and very nearly caused him to drop his cakes." Gracilia's tentative smile returned as she remembered more about the incident. "The baker put down his tray and took off after Diego who spurred his valiant steed to greater speed. In watching his pursuer, Diego forgot to look where he was going and ran straight into a detail of foot soldiers just returning from patrol. Rosarita and I were horrified to see several of the soldiers were knocked down. In the confusion, Diego got the burro turned around and headed back in our direction. But he had to dodge old Luis and dropped his 'lance' just in time to trip the baker, who went flying in the dust."

Gracilia paused for a moment and Santiago could see that she was gathering her strength to continue. He waited patiently. "Now there were soldiers and the baker who were trying to get their hands on Diego," she continued. "He led them in a chase down some of the back alleys of the town, trying to avoid capture. I looked at Rosarita and told her we had to do something. So we ran to the church to see which way they were going. Suddenly, Diego rounded the corner of the church. He had put a little distance between him and his pursuers. Rosarita and I looked at each other for just a moment and then we both sprang to open the church doors. Diego charged into the church on the burro and we girls shut the doors just before the soldiers and the baker came around the corner."

"You were the ones who let Diego and the burro into the church?" asked Santiago incredulously.

Gracilia nodded, looking down at the floor, a little embarrassed.

"What happened then?"

"Oh, the lancers came and questioned us, asking if we had seen a boy riding a burro pass by us. We, of course, answered that we had not."

"You lied?"

"Oh, no. We were telling the truth. Diego had not passed by us. He had gone into the church." Here Gracilia shyly smiled again.

"And then?"

"The lancers and old Luis talked for a few moments in front of the church and then decided it was not worth the effort to look for the boy any longer and they all went their separate ways. Rosarita and I were relieved to say the least. As soon as the men were out of sight, we hurried into the church. We were dismayed when we did not see Diego or the burro anywhere. We did not know where they could have gone. We waited and waited, hiding behind a pillar, not wanting to be seen by the padre and then have to explain who we were looking for. Finally, we saw the padre leaving the confessional. He paused for a moment, looking back, and then left the sanctuary, going to his study, I think. When he was quite gone and not before, the door of the confessional opened and out came Diego leading the little burro. He was as white as a sheet and spoke not a word until we were well away from the church, although we girls laughed merrily at his predicament."

"And what did he say about it?" said Santiago.

"He said that he had barely gotten the burro into the confessional in order to get him out of sight when the padre had come upon him and asked if there was anything he could do for him. Not knowing what else to do, Diego said he had a friend who could not speak, but who wanted to have the padre hear his confession. He offered to interpret for the friend and the padre took him up on the offer. So the burro had his confession. To this day, I do not believe the padre ever knew that he took the confession of a burro." Gracilia put her hand to her mouth as she laughed quietly. This was the first time she had laughed at anything in such a long while.

Santiago found himself laughing along with her. Imagine, giving a burro a confession right there in a church. He shook his head as he laughed. Then his eyes met Gracilia's and their laughter subsided. Gracilia's laughter had returned some of the color to her cheeks and she seemed more alive than she had in many, many days. Then the image of the burro in the church returned to him and he laughed gently once again. Seeing this, Gracilia joined him and for a few moments they were able to put her illness beyond them.

"Did Diego ever say just what it was the burro confessed?" he asked.

"I believe little one confessed he had been under the influence of a boy who had gotten them into trouble with the soldiers and the baker," she replied with a smile.

"And what was his penance?"

"Let me see," she paused to remember. "I think he had to go and apologize personally to each person he had bumped into and then he had to drop a peso into the poor box."

"And did the burro do all of this?" asked Santiago.

"Oh, Diego took his place. He put the peso in the poor box and went and apologized to all of the lancers and the baker. He was a very serious boy when it came to keeping his obligations. He said it was only right that he apologize for what he had done. He had a lot of his father in him for all that he was just a young and playful boy. The de la Vega honor and sense of justice."

"Oh, is that so?" said Santiago, musing more to himself than to Gracilia. "I wonder if he kept up with that ideal as he grew up?"

"I beg your pardon?" said Gracilia, who had not heard clearly what Santiago had said.

"Oh, nothing, nothing, my dear. It was an amusing story. I will have to tell Diego that you remembered the incident well," said Santiago. "It is a welcome change to see you laugh once again, Gracilia. I will be sure and thank him for that. Now, I must go and finish several dispatches which need to go to the Governor with the next courier. You will excuse me?" Rising, he bowed and left Gracilia to her memories. He would have to test Diego to see whether the young man still carried with him this sense of honor. If so, then he was a man who could be manipulated if done carefully. Men of honor were so predictable. Santiago was sure there was a place for Diego de la Vega in his plans. Just as he was sure there was a place for Alejandro de la Vega as well. That proud old bird wore his honor like a suit of armor. It just remained to be seen how he would use the both of them to achieve his goals.

Gracilia watched Santiago leave. This was the longest time either of them had spent together in conversation in many months. It reminded her so much of the first months of their marriage when everything had been normal and she and Jorgé had their whole lives before them. Although she recognized Jorgé as a man driven to fulfill his ambition of rising in the government, they used to find the time to talk pleasantly together. If he had truly loved her, she did not know, but he had been kind to her and she liked to think that he had loved her. And then this vile illness lay its hand upon her and strangled all that was good between them. Now his work and his fencing consumed his time and she was not a part of his life any longer except when it was to his benefit. She was so very alone now.

She was grateful to Diego for bringing a small moment of happiness to her. She did not know if she would ever see him again, for she was far too weak to entertain guests in her home, but perhaps she might feel well enough to send a personal note to thank him later. Unbidden, she found herself wondering what her life would have been like had she married Diego de la Vega instead of Jorgé. Would he have turned from her when her wasting illness had come between them as had Jorgé? She just shook her head sadly. There was no answer to that. No man would know what he would do until he had to face such a situation. But as she remembered those few weeks that Diego had remained in Monterey when they were children, she decided that she would give him the benefit of the doubt. Even as a boy, Diego had seemed to value people over property and wealth. For a few moments she let herself dwell in the small fantasy of what might have been.

Her smile turned into tears, however, when reality resumed its shape around her. She was the prisoner of her own body and helpless to hold onto her husband's affections in whatever form they might have taken. She covered her face with her hands as she wept and Pippa came to see what was the matter. Gracilia would say nothing, but continued to weep. It was almost as if the emotions so long pent up inside of her had been released by the little story of a boy and a burro.

Pippa could do nothing for her mistress and so she ran to get the physician. From past experience, she knew better than to disturb Señor Santiago with her mistress' illness. In moments, Doctor Avila was there and they carried Gracilia to her bed and dosed her with laudanum. She did not protest. In fact, she welcomed the release the foul tasting medicine brought to her. While under its influence, she did not have to feel anything. She did not have to think or feel. She did not even have to exist if she did not wish it. All she had to do was slip into a dreamless sleep and let the world and her troubles fade away.

After Señora Gracilia was finally asleep, Doctor Avila turned to Pippa and said quietly, "Do you know what may have happened to cause her to break down as she did?"

Pippa looked sadly at her mistress as she said, "All I know is that she and Señor Santiago were talking together. Once, I even thought I heard Señora Gracilia laugh a little. Then Señor Santiago left and she began crying. I could not make her stop."

"Do you know what they were talking about?"

"No, Doctor. I was busy in the other room and could not make out what they were saying to each other," said Pippa.

"Perhaps it is just her illness," mused the doctor. "She is so very weak and this medicine is very strong. But it is all we have." He looked at the bottle in his hand. "I wish there was more I could do for her, but there is nothing." Sighing, he put the bottle on the table. "Call me again when she awakens. I will see then if she requires anything further."


	8. B1 Ch7: The Landholder Meeting

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 7 – _The Landholder Meeting_**

Don Alejandro seated himself at the end of the table set up for the meeting in the Magistrado's office. The seat had been left for him by the other landholders who were present. The Magistrado stood at the other end of the table preparing some of his papers as he watched this subtle sorting out. He had decided not to wear his sword, but left it lying on the desk behind him in plain sight. This was a friendly meeting and a sword would have been out of place, but he would not let it stray too far from his side. Tapping his papers together, Santiago placed them before him on the table and looked at the men who had assembled at his request. He remarked again to himself how the men naturally deferred to Don Alejandro de la Vega, leaving him the place of most honor at the other end of the table. He noted the ease with which the elder de la Vega accepted this. For Don Alejandro, it was just the natural order of things. From what the Magistrado could observe, he did not think Don Alejandro would have overtly asserted his right to sit in the place of honor, but he would have been quite offended by the slight if it had not been left open for him. Santiago added this to the bits and pieces he was gathering about the de la Vegas. He was building an understanding of who they were and their strengths and weaknesses. But now to the matter at hand. Still standing, Santiago held his hands open in greeting as he addressed the dons.

"I welcome you here, Señores, and thank you for coming today. We have much to discuss concerning the future of our pueblo and the people who live in this district. We have all seen what can happen to our country when our people are divided and lacking in resources. This invites our unscrupulous countrymen and aggressive foreigners to see us as weak. They then seek to overthrow the rightful government of our sovereign and king and seize power for themselves." There were nods around the table as they all remembered the Eagle. Seeing that his words were being well received, Santiago continued. "What we need is to make our colony prosperous, so we may purchase those things needed for our defense and so our people can enjoy the fruits of their labor. And so we may in turn, support His Majesty as a proper colony of Spain should."

Don Alejandro leaned forward, placing his hands upon the table as he spoke up. "You speak words of wisdom, Your Excellency. A prosperous California is a strong California. And I think I may speak for all those present today when I say that our loyalty to His Majesty has never wavered. We are willing to do our part to keep California a strong colony of Mother Spain."

Smiling, Santiago said, "Splendid, Don Alejandro." Seating himself, he said, "Now to begin. First, I would like to hear from each of you. Tell me about yourself, your families and your holdings. I want to become familiar with all of you so that I may determine how we may all work together. In the coming days, I plan to visit each of you and see your holdings for myself, but for now, just tell me about yourselves." Santiago sat back and waited. As he suspected, all the men looked at one another and then at Don Alejandro, who stood to speak first.

"Your Excellency," said Don Alejandro. "My family is of noble Spanish blood. My father's father came here from Spain just after the mission at San Gabriel was built in 1761. He settled on the land which was part of a grant given to him for his loyal service to the King in the war with France. From humble beginnings, with just a few head of cattle and a few horses, he built the rancho. My father, and now I, have continued the work, building on what my grandfather started. Our lands are north of the pueblo, as you can see on the map you have on the table before you. You can see how our family has increased our land holdings through hard work. We pride ourselves on the quality and quantity of our cattle and horses, and the wines which we make from our own vineyards. My grandfather, my father and myself, fought for our land against both Indians and bandits, holding against all odds the lands that belonged to us. De la Vega blood has also been spilled defending our land and our country against the King's enemies. I would die before I saw my lands taken from me or the country overrun by despoilers."

"Well said, Don Alejandro," remarked Santiago, as he noted with interest the absence of any reference by Don Alejandro to his son, Diego. "You and your family are to be commended for your loyalty to the King, your strength and your courage." Taking a chance, he decided to stir the waters by adding innocently, "And Don Diego will be the heir to your holdings, eh? A fortunate son indeed." He was rewarded by the look of discomfort on Don Alejandro's face.

"Er, yes, Your Excellency," said Don Alejandro, clearing his throat. "Fortunate."

Beyond Don Alejandro's discomfort, Santiago also noticed with great interest the sidelong glances exchanged between the other dons. Not wanting Don Alejandro to be further disconcerted, Santiago decided to move on to the other dons and said, "Who will be next? Don't be shy. Don Alejandro has set a good example. I want to hear from all of you."

Each man at the table stood in his turn to give his family history and a description of their holdings. Many of them spoke of their own sons' achievements in learning to manage certain aspects of the ranchos and each time Don Alejandro would drop his gaze to the table top before him. Santiago's sharp eyes missed none of this while he listened. At length, they were done. Santiago felt like he now knew most of the key players in the hierarchy among the dons. And he was pleased to hear of the great care which had been taken by these men to build up their holdings. All the better for him when he made his move to acquire their lands in the future. But the thing which he seized upon the most was the relationship between Don Alejandro and his son. He was sure he could exploit the strained relationship between the two of them when the time came to put his plans into action.

He decided to move the meeting along. "Señores, I thank you for your indulgence of my little request. I can begin to see just how rich this land is in people and resources. I believe California has the potential to become one of His Majesty's finest and most prosperous colonies. But the truth is, we are far away from the Mother country and we will have to depend a great deal upon ourselves to keep what is ours away from foreigners and treasonous men." There were nods of agreement. "The military will do all it can to protect us, but to be truthful, they are limited in their resources. I plan to equip them as well as I can to face the dangers and to see personally that their training is stepped up. We will increase the lancer patrols in the district and any criminals will be swiftly rounded up for trial and punishment." Here the Magistrado smiled, "We will see that 'Justice is served'."

"Bravo!" said some of the men at the table while everyone smiled.

The don to the Magistrado's immediate left spoke dryly, "Does that include the outlaw, Zorro, Excellency?"

Santiago turned to the rather taciturn looking man. "Don Carlos, what I have said goes for all who have broken the law, even this Zorro, whoever he is. Justice will be served upon all, equally."

Don Carlos looked at the table top as he said, "There are some who believe this outlaw should be above the law. That what he does is for the 'good' of the people." Looking at his fellow dons sidelong, he continued, "Some perhaps, even see him as a hero."

Don Alejandro listened to Don Carlos and shook his head. The man was so cold. He had a fine rancho which seemed to be the only satisfaction he got out of life. He had never married, never had any children. What was the point of building up a rancho if you had no one of your blood to be your heir? However, that particular thought reminded him of Diego and he shut down that line of thinking immediately, not wishing to dwell upon it. Don Alejandro took a deep breath. He had a few words to say about Zorro.

"Your Excellency," he said addressing Santiago. "Even though we do not know who this man is or where he comes from, El Zorro seems to be a friend of the people. He has saved my life and the lives of many others." He pointed to Ignacio Torres sitting midway of the table. "Don Nacho was saved from death several times from Capitán Monastario." Indicating a man to his immediate left, he said, "Don Alfredo here, would have been tortured or killed by Varga right in my own home if Zorro had not rescued him. And, on the day of the fight in the pueblo against the army of the Eagle, Zorro was right there with us, fighting on our side to defeat the treasonous madman."

"Oh, so the Eagle had been to your hacienda, Don Alejandro? I had not known this," said Santiago. He had been temporarily assigned to San Francisco during the time in question. There were gaps in his knowledge that he would need to fill. This bit of news was a piece of information he could use. "I am glad, Don Nacho, that no harm came to you," he said, "And you also, Don Alfredo. So Varga would have killed you but for this outlaw, eh?"

"Yes, Zorro saved my life that day," said Don Alfredo.

"Why did the Eagle wish to torture you?" asked Santiago. He was intrigued and wished to know more.

Don Alfredo looked as if he would rather not speak about the subject, but at last he said, "I . . . had come to the de la Vega rancho under the false impression that Don Alejandro had called a meeting of the dons who had signed as members of the citizen's army." He looked as if he might say something more, then he hesitated. Finally, he said, "But it was the Eagle who had called the meeting in order to discover the names of those who had signed. He thought he could make me talk."

Santiago smiled. "And you refused?"

Don Alfredo drew himself up. "Of course, Your Excellency. I would never betray my friends."

"And this Zorro came and rescued you?"

"Yes."

"Right in Don Alejandro's own home?"

"Yes."

Santiago cocked his head as he observed Don Alfredo. He could tell that the man was not going to say very much more about the subject here. Don Alfredo was a man of few words and he seemed to prefer his privacy. His attention was drawn back to Alejandro as the don spoke again.

"The point about Zorro, Your Excellency, is that he has done as much good as bad. He is a bit of a rogue and very wily like his namesake." Don Alejandro smiled, "No one has ever caught him and I daresay no one ever will."

"Should I take that as a challenge, Don Alejandro?" asked Santiago, leaning back in his chair with a smile of his own.

Don Alejandro raised one of his hands and let it drop to his lap, as if to say, _You may try if you wish, but . . ._

Santiago looked at all of them and said, "Señores, let it be understood that it is my job to capture and prosecute all criminals. If the opportunity arises to capture this bandit, then I will do so, heroic deeds notwithstanding. He will have his day in court to be judged by the law. That is my duty."

"Sí," said Don Carlos in his dry monotone. "It _is_ your duty."

Santiago looked at Don Carlos and then back to the other dons. He could see they were not very sympathetic to the man. At the moment, he could see no reason to fault them.

Don Alejandro said, "You may not have the opportunity, Your Excellency. Zorro has not been seen for several months. Not since the Eagle was defeated."

"And why do you think this is so, Don Alejandro?" asked Santiago.

Don Alejandro shrugged and said, "Who knows? There has been no trouble in the pueblo since the Eagle's death; no cause him for him to ride against injustice. Perhaps he has seen no need to appear. And if I might say so, Your Excellency, with you here, the need for Zorro grows ever smaller." There were smiles around the table. Even Don Carlos looked less disagreeable for the moment.

The Magistrado was amused. "I thank you, Don Alejandro, for the vote of confidence. I shall endeavor to deserve it," he said, with a small bow to the older man. "And now, Señores, let us leave the subject of the bandit who has vanished and turn to the subject which brought you here. Let us consider our district's resources and how we may best use them to prepare for a prosperous future."

The meeting went on. There were discussions of cattle, horses, wine, and various produce, such as the oranges Padre Felipe was trying to grow. These were things which could be exported for sale to other countries or to Spain. But Santiago's mind was not entirely on the meeting. Oh, he knew the ground he would need to cover with the dons concerning the meeting's purpose, and he did not miss a thing, but his mind was also working on the various bits of information which he had picked up this day. The bandit, Zorro, intrigued him greatly. He felt assured the bandit would play a part in the scheme to acquire land from the very men who sat at the table with him today. It just remained to be seen where the outlaw would fit into the plan. He needed to know more. And he would find out more as he gathered information while accompanying the lancer patrols in the next few weeks. A question here, a statement there, a remark overheard. Yes, he would gather his information slowly and carefully. They might call Zorro the fox, but it was the serpent who slipped up upon you unawares. And his bite was lethal.


	9. B1 Ch8: The Magistrado Comes Calling

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 8 – _The Magistrado Comes Calling_**

A two weeks after the meeting with the dons in the pueblo, a lancer patrol, led by Sergeant Garcia, pulled up at the gates of Don Alfredo's hacienda. Garcia ordered his men to dismount and walk their horses to the back of the hacienda where they could water the animals and wait in the shade. They would be waiting because the Magistrado was with them and he always stopped in to visit with the owners of the haciendas they passed while on patrol. They had visited many of the haciendas in the district in the last two weeks, most of them in the southern and eastern sections. The northern section was the last to be visited. Garcia looked through the gates and saw one of Don Alfredo's servants approaching. The Magistrado had dismounted and was slapping some of the trail dust from his clothing.

The Indian servant opened the gate and said, "May I help you, Sergeant Garcia?"

"Sí," said Garcia. "You may let your master know that His Excellency, the Magistrado, is here and wishes to inquire if Don Alfredo will receive him."

"Oh, sí," said the servant bowing. "Please come into the courtyard while I inform Don Alfredo at once."

"Graciás," said Garcia as he took one step back and bowed to let the Magistrado go before him into the courtyard which was deeply shaded by several great oak trees. Santiago strode in, taking off his gloves and looking around while he and Garcia waited. They did not have long to wait however, as Don Alfredo came quickly.

"Señor Magistrado, it is indeed a pleasure to have you visit my home," said Don Alfredo, bowing.

Santiago bowed in return. "Graciás, Don Alfredo." Sweeping his hand to indicate the hacienda and its canopy of large, spreading oaks which gave such deep shade even in late winter, Santiago said, "Your home is magnificent. I had no idea oaks grew to such great stature in this part of California."

Looking quite proud, Don Alfredo said, "My mother planted these when she and my father married and settled this land, Excellency. They are almost fifty years old. But, please. Do come into the sala. We will have refreshments."

Santiago and Don Alfredo walked side by side into the hacienda with Sergeant Garcia trailing after. The one thing Garcia liked about these visits the Magistrado made with the patrol was that he was able to participate in the refreshments as well. There was only this hacienda and that of Don Alejandro's which the Magistrado had not visited with the lancer patrols, and he had sampled the wines of all of them. Garcia mused for a moment as to why the Magistrado had left Don Alejandro's hacienda until the last, since he was the most important of the landowners, but his thoughts were pleasantly interrupted by the wine which the servant handed to him. After that, he was quite occupied.

Don Alfredo and the Magistrado were seated by the great fireplace in the sala as they drank their wine. The fire crackled quietly, sending out its warmth into the room. Don Alfredo held up his glass and said "I am honored that you have come to visit me, Señor Magistrado."

Santiago smiled and sipped his wine. "Yes, I had wanted to see the land of my district first hand, and what better way than to ride with the lancer patrols and visit each rancho along the way? I have been very impressed with the land and its people," said Santiago with a smile. "I am fortunate that the Governor thought me worthy to take up this post."

"And we are fortunate to have such a man as yourself to be named as our Magistrado," said Don Alfredo. "If I may say so, the men who came before you were no better than the law breakers they were sworn to prosecute."

"Yes, I had heard that," said Santiago. "But they are gone and I am here, eh? We will make this district a safe place to raise our children and our cattle." Santiago raised his glass once again and Don Alfredo raised his. They drank. "And just how are your children and your cattle?" Santiago asked, showing a real interest. Before Don Alfredo could answer, his wife entered the sala and Santiago was introduced to Doña Florintina and the don's four young children who shyly lined up to greet the Magistrado. For quite some minutes, the three adults spoke happily of the children and the rancho. But Santiago had an underlying reason for being here and after a time decided it was time to seek his answers.

Looking over his glass of wine, he said, "Please forgive me, Don Alfredo, but I am curious. As you might imagine, as a prosecutor, as one who is sworn to uphold the law, I am always curious when one of our own dares to break that law. You were with the Administrado, Señor Varga, only the one time before he was killed on that fateful day at the pueblo, were you not?" He did not miss the pensive look that crossed Don Alfredo's face.

Doña Florintina took the opportunity to gather up the children and take her leave. She knew her husband's preferences and would leave the two men to talk of such things.

"A charming woman, your wife," said Santiago watching her go. If only his own wife could, . . . would, . . . . He stopped himself. He would deal with those thoughts later. Much later.

"Sí, that is so, Your Excellency," said Don Alfredo, looking after her fondly. It was the most emotion that Santiago had ever seen the man exhibit in their short acquaintance.

"And now to return to my question, Don Alfredo. Your meeting with the Eagle," said Santiago.

Don Alfredo nodded, turning to look into the fire.

"This meeting took place at the de la Vega hacienda?" asked Santiago.

"Sí."

"If you please, tell me again why you went there," said Santiago.

Don Alfredo did not answer immediately. He did not like to relive that time. He was rather ashamed to admit the real reason he had come to the meeting. But neither would he lie to the Magistrado. He would just have to hope that he could keep from mentioning what he did not wish to admit. He looked at Garcia who was just emptying his wine glass. He also did not like discussing such matters before a soldier like Garcia. The Magistrado might be discreet, but Garcia was another matter.

Seeing where Don Alfredo's gaze was centered, Santiago surmised part of the reason for the don's silence. "Sergeant Garcia," he said.

Garcia straightened up and said, "Sí, Magistrado!"

"You may go and check on the lancers and wait there with them while Don Alfredo and I continue our conversation."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Garcia, as he looked reluctantly at his empty glass. No chance of it being refilled now. Sighing, he put it down and went out the door to do the Magistrado's bidding.

Santiago turned back to Don Alfredo who was again staring at the fire. "Now, Señor, you were about to tell me why you went to the de la Vega hacienda?" He tried to maintain the attitude of one who was making conversation, not probing for information.

Swallowing, Don Alfredo said, "I had signed Don Alejandro's list to become a member of his citizen's army." He paused.

Seeing this nervousness, Santiago asked, "You were not entirely certain that you wanted to sign this list?"

Clenching his teeth, Don Alfredo knew he had to tell the truth now or lie to the Magistrado. He had never lied in his life and he would not start now. The Magistrado was a very perceptive man and he would surely know if Don Alfredo tried to prevaricate. Sighing, he said, "Sí. I was reluctantly convinced to sign the list."

"By Don Alejandro?"

Don Alfredo nodded and added, "And by his son, Diego."

"Don Diego?" said Santiago in surprise. "I thought he did not participate in such matters?"

Don Alfredo said, "Usually, he does not. But there are certain causes which do interest him more than his books and music from time to time."

"And what might those causes be?" asked Santiago with great interest.

Don Alfredo shrugged his shoulders and took a sip from his glass of wine. "He is a romantic. He believes in the cause of justice as an ideal. His concept of justice is found in the books of poetry which he reads, not from the reality of life."

"And you are firmly grounded in reality, I take it," smiled Santiago.

"I can see what is before me, Señor Magistrado. I do not have my head in the clouds or in books."

Santiago decided to leave the questioning concerning Don Diego, but he could begin to see possibilities in the young man as a part of his future plans. "And just what did you see before you signed the list?" he asked Don Alfredo.

"I saw lawlessness overtaking our land, Magistrado. I saw that our military seemed to be powerless to stop it. I saw our isolation from Spain and from any aid which might come from that quarter."

"Then Don Alejandro came up with this idea of the citizen's army made up of all the dons and leading citizens?"

"Sí," said Don Alfredo.

"Why were you reluctant to sign the list? Did you not wish to defend your country, your home and your property against outlaws and traitors?"

Don Alfredo was pushed against the wall. He would have to answer. "My thoughts then were to leave California, Magistrado. I was tired of the lawlessness and strife which had come to this land. I wanted to protect my family. All of this," he gestured to include the hacienda, "all of this is worth nothing against the safety of my family." Here, he looked directly at the Magistrado.

"I can understand your sentiments, Señor," said Santiago. Inwardly, he was finding this discussion enlightening. Here was a man who was willing to give up his rancho to protect his family. Just the kind of thing he hoped to foster when he set his plan in motion. Perhaps Don Alfredo would be the first one to sell out. Bringing himself back, he said, "But Don Alejandro and his son convinced you to remain and to sign the list?"

"Yes."

"It would seem that the de la Vegas wield considerable powers of persuasion, Don Alfredo. Do you agree?" Santiago knew what he had further confirmed from the other dons whom he had visited. Don Alejandro de la Vega was a great force in this community. He was the one to whom the others turned when there was trouble.

Don Alfredo nodded. "Yes, Don Alejandro can be most persuasive," he said. "It was mainly out of respect for him that I signed the list."

Santiago probed a bit more. "Do you think there were any others who signed the list who felt as you did?"

Don Alfredo said, "I . . . am not sure what you mean, Your Excellency."

"Were there other men who might have left California but for the persuasion of Don Alejandro?" asked Santiago. If there were, he would mark them for special attention as well, he thought to himself.

"It was a dark time, Excellency. There were . . . some who may have entertained the same thoughts as I, but they signed the list and waited to see what would happen, as I did."

Santiago saw the reluctance of Don Alfredo to mention any names. He did not feel he could press the man at this point to reveal who those men might be. But he was not worried. He had time on his side. He was confident he would ferret out the information at a later time. For now though, he would shift the discussion back to the elder de la Vega. "And so all of you looked to Don Alejandro as your leader in this matter," he said, more as a statement than a question.

"Sí, Excellency," said Don Alfredo. "It was Don Alejandro who went to Monterey to place the list before the Governor and ask for official sanction for the citizen's army as did men from many other places in California."

"Yes, I had heard about the meeting in a letter from the Governor. I was stationed in San Francisco at the time," said Santiago. "The Governor expressed to me that he had been reluctant to take that step, but with the increasing threat to the lawful government of California, he had no choice. But to continue your part of the story, Don Alfredo, what did you do after you had signed the list?"

"I went home and tried to concentrate on my work, Magistrado. What else could I do?"

"Were you aware the new Administrado had taken up residence at the de la Vega hacienda?"

"No, Magistrado. I did not know this. Not until I received the summons."

Santiago refilled his wine glass and sat back. "Who sent the summons?"

"Don Alejandro's own servant brought the message, saying there was to be a meeting of all those who had signed the list."

"So you supposed the summons came from Don Alejandro."

"Sí."

"Continue," said Santiago, gesturing with his glass.

Don Alfredo looked down at the glass in his own hands before speaking again. "The meeting was fixed for eight o'clock in the evening. Ever since I had signed the list, I regretted letting Don Alejandro talk me into joining his army. There were more incidents which made me afraid for the safety of my family. Therefore, I came to the meeting early, intending to have Don Alejandro remove my name from the list and informing him of my decision to depart California."

Santiago sat up and leaned forward as he said, "And?" Seeing the look on Don Alfredo's face, he leaned back in his chair and resumed a more casual demeanor. "Please excuse me, Don Alfredo. I have tried to gather as much information as I can about the traitor Varga, and to be able to speak to someone with first hand knowledge of the man is exciting."

Don Alfredo managed a small smile. "Sí, Magistrado. I will continue. I was shown into the de la Vega's library where I did not find Don Alejandro as I expected, but only the Administrado and one of his aides. A man named Hernandez. I soon discovered I had been tricked into coming and that the Administrado was eager to find out the names of all those who had signed the list. He thought he would use me to gain that information."

"You refused him," said Santiago.

Don Alfredo drew himself up. "Of course. I am a man of honor, Your Excellency. I would never betray my friends."

"I can see this is so," said Santiago, nodding. "What kind of man was the Eagle, Don Alfredo? You were with him for some time?"

"Not so long, Magistrado, but one did not need to be long in that room to know the man wielded great power. The aid who was with him would do his bidding even to the killing of anyone the Eagle wished. Such was the power that man held over those who followed him."

"Very interesting," said Santiago. "Varga did not try to hide his purpose from you at all?" Don Alfredo shook his head no. "Then he never meant for you to leave that room alive, did he? Don Alfredo shook his head again. "Do go on, Don Alfredo. What happened then?"

"Varga turned me over to his aid, Hernandez, who tied me to a chair, and would have tortured me to try and gain the information he sought while Varga looked on. But I would have died before any one of the names passed my lips," said Don Alfredo with conviction. "However, before Hernandez could begin, there was an interruption." He paused.

"And that was . . .?" said Santiago, as he suppressed a mental sigh. Getting information from this man was excruciatingly slow.

"A man was escorted into the library. He was British. I could tell Varga was not happy to see him. They exchanged heated words. It seemed the Britisher was unhappy at the turn of events in Los Angeles. He called Señor Varga to task."

"Ah, this British Señor was one of those who would have paid Varga if he could deliver California into their hands?" said Santiago. "I have read some of the reports given to the Governor concerning foreigners coming to our land."

"Sí, it would seem so. The Britisher told Varga to release me, but Varga insisted he could not be told what to do. He also told the man there were plenty of others who would pay much money for California. The Britisher left in anger at that point."

Santiago sipped his wine again. "Interesting," he said. "After the Britisher left, what happened? You were still tied up, awaiting your fate I believe."

Don Alfredo took a deep breath and said, "Señor Varga was displeased with me. He yelled, 'Why did you have to be here!' as if it were my fault I had been summoned to the hacienda. I held my peace. I said nothing. Suddenly, the lights went out. Even in the dark, I could tell that Varga and Hernandez were very frightened as they were frantic to get the candle lighted once again."

"So the Eagle was afraid of the dark," laughed Santiago. "What was the cause of the light going out?"

"Zorro, Your Excellency," said Don Alfredo, with the briefest of smiles playing around his lips.

"Ah, Zorro." said Santiago, nodding. Then he looked puzzled. "But how did he get in the room without anyone seeing him?"

"I do not know, Your Excellency. All I know is one moment he was not there and the next moment he was."

"Is he a ghost?" laughed Santiago.

Don Alfredo shrugged. "Your Excellency, it is said that walls are no barrier to El Zorro. He comes and goes as he wills."

"An extraordinary ability," Santiago mused. "And quite useful I would suppose."

Don Alfredo said, "Be that as it may, Your Excellency, by the time Hernandez had found the candle to light it, Zorro was beside me, cutting my bonds with his sword. He told me to flee and I wasted no time in heeding his words."

"You expected him to face two men while you escaped?" asked Santiago with narrowed eyes.

"I was unarmed, Your Excellency," said Don Alfredo, holding up his empty hands. "I had no choice. Hernandez tried to follow me, but Zorro stopped him with a warning, saying that he would kill him if he harmed me. I ran from the hacienda and went to get my horse."

"And Zorro stayed behind?"

"Sí, Your Excellency. However, he was not able to keep both men in the library. Hernandez found me at the stable and would have killed me with a scythe, except that Sergeant Garcia found us first."

"Garcia?" said Santiago in surprise.

Don Alfredo nodded. "Sergeant Garcia drew his sword and prepared to defend me. I told him I did not want him to fight my battles, but he said that it was his fault I was there and he would take care of the man with the scythe. I took him at his word and got on my horse and left."

Santiago stroked his beard. Then he asked, "What do you think the Sergeant meant when he said it was his fault that you were there?"

"I do not know, Your Excellency. It never occurred to me to ask. As you might imagine, all I could think about was returning here and preparing for any further attacks against me or my family."

"You remained here until that fateful day when you and your citizen's army rode to engage the Eagle and his army?"

"Sí. That day, Diego came and told me his father and Sergeant Garcia were being held prisoner by Señor Varga. It seemed Varga was even more desperate to discover the names of the members of the citizen's army and thought to wring the names from Don Alejandro. He was also prepared to take the cuartel and the pueblo by force and thus begin his conquest of California."

"You found yourself at the head of Don Alejandro's army then?" said Santiago.

Don Alfredo's face grew more stern than before. "I sent my vaqueros to notify the other dons at once and we met just outside the pueblo. We could already hear the fighting in the plaza as we assembled. We were not going to leave Don Alejandro to his fate without a fight and we were also there to defend our homes and our country from a would be usurper. We charged headlong into the battle. The fighting was furious, but it was over in a short time. We were able to see our flag flying over the pueblo once again and Varga lay dead in the dust."

"And what happened with Don Diego?" asked Santiago. "I mean, while the fighting was going on, where was he?"

"I do not know, Your Excellency," said Don Alfredo. "He was not there during the fighting." Don Alfredo looked down at the floor before he spoke again. "Perhaps I should not say this, but it is well known that Don Alejandro's son does not know how to fight. He does not know the sword or how to use firearms. I suppose he just waited until the fighting was over and then rode into town."

Santiago sipped the last of his wine and nodded to himself as he listened to Don Alfredo. This was all interesting. Extremely interesting. Don Alfredo's perception of Diego de la Vega seemed quite consistent with the views of the other dons he had visited. Some were less tactful than Don Alfredo, calling Diego a foppish young man with winsome ways, basically useless unless you wanted a song or a glass of wine. But to his credit, none of the men Santiago had spoken with had ever said anything negative about his honesty or his good nature. Most of the men seemed to like young Diego even as they shook their heads in pity for poor Don Alejandro.

Seeing that Santiago seemed to be considering his last words overlong, Don Alfredo said, "I do not mean to imply that Don Diego is a coward, Your Excellency. It is just not his nature to fight."

Santiago smiled as he considered that it had taken quite a lot to convince Don Alfredo to fight against the Eagle instead of fleeing. Was he so different from young Diego at that? But it would not do to bring that up. So instead, he just raised his hand and said, "It is not necessary to explain, Don Alfredo. I have heard about young de la Vega from the other dons whom I have visited before you and from those about the pueblo. I understand how it is with him. I am sure, although Don Alejandro would like a son who was just like him in temperament and abilities, he loves Diego even so."

Don Alfredo nodded solemnly. In a quiet voice, he said, as he looked into the fire, "Yes, he loves the boy. Deeply. That is why he hurts so much. I know this even though he tries to hide it. He wanted Diego to come back from Spain and be the strong son that would be needed to take his place someday, both in running the rancho and being a leader of men. Don Alejandro is not a young man and Diego is his only heir. I have known Don Alejandro many years and I know that despite Diego's failings, the father does indeed love the only son of his wife . . . almost as deeply as he loved her." Don Alfredo grew silent as he continued to gaze into the fire. He was thinking about his own wife, Florintina, and his own children. He would not fault Don Alejandro for loving his only son. He knew how much he loved his own family and what he was willing to do for them.

Santiago found it interesting that Don Alfredo found himself speaking more freely about Don Alejandro's personal life than about his own. But that was just human nature he supposed. Setting his glass down on the table next to him, Santiago said, "Well, this has been most enlightening, Don Alfredo. But let us get back to you. What you did took great courage. Holding your silence in the face of Varga's torturer and leading the citizen's army into the pueblo tells me what kind of man you are, Señor. I am pleased that we have such men in the pueblo." Santiago glossed over the point that Don Alfredo had been on the verge of leaving California during that same time. But he knew the don's story would have a prominent place in his plans. Already, he could see parts of it which he could build upon.

"Graciás," said Don Alfredo. "I was but doing what a caballero should do when called upon to defend his family, friends and country."

"Well, on behalf of the government of His Majesty, Graciás," said Santiago. He knew it would not hurt to praise the man. I would only serve to ingratiate himself further with the don.

Standing, Santiago picked up his hat and gloves as he said, "This has been a most interesting visit, Don Alfredo. Thank you for indulging my curiosity concerning your experiences with the Eagle. And now, would you care to show me around your rancho? I would like to see your holdings and your livestock. I wish to familiarize myself with the lands of all the citizens so I may better serve the community."

Don Alfredo stood and escorted the Magistrado to the door saying, "I would be most honored to show you my rancho, Your Excellency. Please give me but a moment to speak to my wife and I will be at your service."

"Graciás," said Santiago, as he put on his hat. "Oh, I wonder if you would be so good as to send one of your servants around the back and tell Sergeant Garcia I wish to speak with him?"

"At once, Your Excellency," said Don Alfredo, bowing. Then he turned and went back into the hacienda.

As Santiago waited in the courtyard, he knew the de la Vegas, the old and the young, would be the key to his plans. He had not only found out more about the Eagle today, but also more about young de la Vega's part in the whole thing. Yes, there were many nuggets of information which he could use in formulating his final plans. Now it only remained to visit the de la Vega's in their own home and see what information he could gain from them. He was looking forward to that visit, for there he would assess for himself the relationship between the father and the son, and to what degree he could use that strained relationship in his plans.


	10. B1 Ch9: A Serpent in the Lair of the Fox

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 9 – _A Serpent in the Lair of the Fox_**

The morning chill was giving way when the Magistrado came to call upon the de la Vegas. The final days of the month of February were drawing to a close, and the nearest thing to winter that the area could claim would soon fade away into glorious spring. Sergeant Garcia's lancer patrol pulled up just outside the patio gate of the hacienda. All of their equipment gleamed with polish and their uniforms were cleaned and pressed. The horses were curried to within an inch of their lives. Even Garcia had begun to shave regularly and polish his boots. He looked upon his men with satisfaction. They were all at attention and alert for any commands which he or the Magistrado might give. They were quite a handsome military patrol. A far cry from the men who didn't much care what they looked like only a month ago. Garcia patted the money pouch that he wore at his side. The soldiers had all been paid again yesterday by the Magistrado. It was so nice to have money, even though it was not a lot, a soldier's pay being what it was. But just being paid anything at all was a great boost to the morale of the whole cuartel, and they had the Magistrado to thank for that. He had written the Governor about their condition and had made sure that the payroll for the soldiers had arrived on time. Sergeant Garcia was growing very fond of Jorgé Martinez Santiago.

Up in Diego's room, Bernardo was in the process of helping his young master on with his suede jacket when they both heard the noise made by the lancer patrol outside the gates. Going to the window, he looked out.

"What is it? What do you see?" asked Diego. Bernardo made his signs for Sergeant Garcia and the lancers. Diego came over to the window to look. "I wonder what they are doing here?" he said. Then he spotted the Magistrado at about the same moment as Bernardo. "Oh yes, I remember now," he said. "The Magistrado said he was going to visit all the ranchos while riding along with the lancer patrols." Bernardo nodded agreement. "Is my father at home?"asked Diego, knowing Bernardo knew almost everything that happened at the hacienda. Bernardo shook his head no and motioned that Don Alejandro had ridden away. Straightening his jacket and smoothing his hair one more time with a brief look in the mirror, Diego smiled and said, "Then let us go and greet our visitors in his place." Bernardo opened the door and let Diego precede him onto the balcony.

"Sergeant," they heard the Magistrado say from beyond the patio gate. "Go and see that the de la Vegas are at home. I will wait here."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Garcia, saluting smartly. He dismounted and walked into the patio just in time to see Diego and Bernardo descending the stairs. "Buenas Diás, Don Diego!" he cried in greeting. He waggled his fingers at Bernardo. "And you too, Little One!" Bernardo smiled and waived back.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Sergeant?" asked Diego with a smile, although he knew perfectly well why the patrol had stopped here.

"His Excellency, the Magistrado, would like to know if the de la Vegas are at home," said Garcia.

Diego laughed. "Well, as you can see, Sergeant, we are, or at least, I am."

"Is Don Alejandro not at home?" asked the Sergeant in a worried tone. He had not been told what to do if both Don Alejandro and Diego were not home at the same time.

"Sergeant Garcia," called Santiago.

"Sí, Magistrado!" returned Garcia, walking briskly toward the gate.

"Are the de la Vegas home or not?"

"No, Your Excellency, . . . I mean, yes, Your Excellency . . .," stuttered Garcia. "Don Diego is here, Your Excellency . . ."

By this time, Diego had come to the gate. He felt he had better rescue the poor sergeant, and so he smiled up at the Magistrado, bowing slightly, and said, "Your Excellency, what a pleasant surprise. I welcome you to our hacienda on behalf of my father and myself. Please do come in."

Santiago dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to Sergeant Garcia. "Thank you, Don Diego. I was hoping to find both you and your father at home this morning."

"My father is away from the hacienda at the present time, Your Excellency," said Don Diego. "I am not sure when he will return. A moment, if you please." Taking out his gold watch, Diego turned to Bernardo and pointed to its face, making a sign for Don Alejandro. Bernardo, having heard the conversation, knew exactly what was being asked, but decided to demonstrate his lack and so looked questioningly at Diego. Diego tried again by pointing to the watch, making the sign for his father and then pointing away from the hacienda and back again as though a rider had gone and come back. This time Bernardo nodded in understanding and held up one finger and then shrugged his shoulders. "My father should return in an hour or a little more," said Diego, turning back to Santiago.

Santiago had watched this little display with interest. "I had heard he was deaf," he said to Diego, continuing to look at Bernardo. Bernardo just looked back in all innocence.

"Yes, Your Excellency. And dumb. He has been this way since birth," said Diego. "But for all his handicaps, he makes an excellent servant."

"Where did you find him?" asked Santiago.

"When I was at the University in Spain, Your Excellency. I needed a mozo, and he came highly recommended," said Diego. "But let us not stand out here in the patio talking. Please, may I offer you the hospitality of our home?" This he said while indicating that they should enter the hacienda.

"Graciás," said Santiago. "But first, allow me to attend to a bit of business. Sergeant?" Garcia snapped to attention. "Sergeant, you may leave my horse tied up outside. Then you and the lancers may continue on your patrol. I may be here for some time and I would not want you to delay too long on my account."

Sergeant Garcia looked dismayed. "Continue the . . ." he trailed off. There would be none of the excellent de la Vega wine for him today. He had been looking forward to a glass of the best wine in Alta California.

"But Magistrado," he said, "There will be no one to escort you back to the pueblo if we leave." Santiago just looked at Garcia levelly. Snapping to attention, Garcia seemed to get the message as he saluted and said, "Sí, Magistrado!" Then he pivoted and walked out to where his lancers were waiting. In moments, they were gone in a cloud of dust.

Santiago smiled indulgently after the sergeant, and said, "It will do him good to miss a glass of wine or two, Don Diego. I have set my sights on slimming the good Sergeant down to a more manageable size."

"That is a very _large_ undertaking, Your Excellency," said Diego, and both men laughed.

Bernardo had to keep a straight face as he opened the door to the sala and let the two men enter. It would not do to have the Magistrado see him enjoying Diego's little joke. He took the man's hat and gloves and placed them on the entrance table as the Magistrado took in the details of the de la Vega home. Diego motioned for Bernardo to bring wine and the servant nodded and went to get it.

"Quite impressive, Don Diego," said the Magistrado, waving his hand to indicate the sala. "And I see you have a piano. I had not thought to see one in this part of California. It must have been quite something to get it all the way here."

"My father brought it here for my mother, Your Excellency," said Diego, smiling. "He ordered it all the way from Spain. My mother was quite fond of it. I remember her playing it often when I was a child."

Santiago walked over to the piano and played a few notes. It had been some time since he had been able to play a piano himself, but he had always enjoyed the music of the piano. "Do you play?" he asked Diego while running his hand along its ebony surface. If everything worked as he planned it, he would someday own this very piano.

"Sí, Your Excellency, I do," said Diego, bowing slightly.

"You seem to be a man of many talents, Don Diego. Perhaps, after a bit, you would consent to play something for me?" Santiago asked, returning his attention to Diego. "I enjoyed the pieces you played at the tavern several weeks ago."

"Certainly, if you wish, Excellency," said Diego, smiling again. "But here is Bernardo with the wine. Would you join me in the library?" He indicated the door to the library where Bernardo was standing with a tray carrying glasses and a bottle of wine.

"Certainly, Don Diego. Lead the way," said Santiago. He followed Diego into the room. He was prepared to see a room with a shelf or two of books which would generously be called a library. He was not expecting to see the entire wall of books which came into view as they walked down the stairs. He was immediately drawn to them.

Diego stood back with his arms clasped behind him as he watched the Magistrado. He smiled as he recognized someone who loved books as much as he and his father. Most of the people in this part of the world had no time for books as they labored from dawn until dusk to make their living from the land. He knew that he was fortunate indeed to be the son of a man who could provide such luxuries. Diego watched the Magistrado reach out to touch some of the books and read title after title. He pointed to the desk and nodded for Bernardo to pour the wine, not wanting to disturb the Magistrado.

Santiago pulled himself back from the books after a few moments. All of his life he had loved reading, and after he had come to California he had regretted that he had only been able to bring a few books of his own with him. And now to find not only a piano in this hacienda but a treasure trove of books was more than he could have imagined. He turned to face Diego and saw the younger man smiling at him in understanding. For just a moment, Santiago forgot his ultimate goal for the de la Vega's as he felt something akin to friendship for Diego in their love of books. But he crushed that thought mercilessly. He must not let anything come between him and his ultimate goal which he had set for his life. Besides, once he had done what he set out to do, these books would be his to read at his leisure.

"You have a splendid library here, Don Diego," he said. "I had no idea that there were so many books in Los Angeles." He wondered at the troubled look that crossed Diego's face upon hearing his words. "Have I said something to upset you, Don Diego?" he asked.

Diego smiled wanly and said, "Oh no, Your Excellency. It is just, . . . what you said echoes almost exactly what another man said who came to this library not so long ago."

"Oh, and who was that, may I ask?"

"It was Señor Greco, the secretary to the Administrado, Señor Varga," said Diego. "He too admired our books." Diego pointed to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. "But please, be seated and make yourself comfortable, Your Excellency."

Santiago did so, arranging his sword more comfortably as he accepted the wine from Bernardo. He sipped the wine as he watched Diego receive his glass and as Bernardo took up his station just behind Diego. The young don had brought up one of the very areas he wished to explore, his encounter with José Varga, the Eagle.

"Ah yes, Señor Varga," said Santiago. "He occupied your home for a while did he not? That must have been most unpleasant."

Diego gestured with his wine glass. "We had no regrets when he chose to move into the pueblo, Your Excellency," he said evenly.

Santiago smiled. "We will talk of him later, Don Diego. Now let us talk about you. I want to get to know you and your family, just as I have come to know the other people of the district by visiting them in their homes. You were born and raised in this home were you not?"

"Sí," said Diego. "I am the third generation to be born here."

"And you come from a long line of those with noble Spanish blood," Santiago said more as a statement. "Your father related this to me earlier when I met with him and the other dons. So you still have relatives in Spain?"

"Mostly on my mother's side, Your Excellency," said Diego. "Her family still resides in Spain, just outside of Barcelona. I have an uncle, Estevan de la Cruz and two aunts who live there with their families. My father and I are the last of the lineage of the de la Vegas."

This was good, thought Santiago to himself. This placed all the more pressure on Don Alejandro concerning his son. His only heir. It was a shame that they were not related to those who were out of favor in Spain at the moment. It would have made a nice point against the de la Vegas when the time came. But no matter. He was sure he could find plenty of other things to use. "Your father must be anxious to see grandchildren in his house then," he said. "To . . . continue the lineage."

Diego looked distinctly uncomfortable, but he quickly smiled to cover it. "My father wishes for many things, Magistrado, but for some things he will just have to wait."

Santiago digested this for a moment. He knew that men of Don Alejandro's age were quite as likely to arrange marriages for their sons as they would a daughter. Diego seemed to be asserting that this was not something he would be willing to accept. Another sign of the old don's indulgence of the son. "So you have other plans for the time being?" he probed.

Diego shrugged. "I have . . . other interests right now, Your Excellency."

"Such as your music and more scholarly pursuits, eh?" said Santiago.

Diego said nothing, but looked at the Magistrado while sipping wine from his glass. He did not wish to lie to the man if he did not have to, so he decided that saying nothing was the wisest thing to do at the moment. Let the Magistrado draw his own conclusions about him like everyone else had come to do.

"I see," said Santiago nodding. He held up his glass and Bernardo came to fill it at once. "This is most excellent wine, by the way. I am pleased to find that it does indeed live up to its reputation."

"My father will be pleased to hear this, Your Excellency," said Diego with a smile. "He sets great store by his reputation."

Santiago raised his glass in acknowledgment and then continued, "Tell me about your time in Spain, Don Diego. I spent many happy hours at the university in Madrid. Perhaps we know many of the same people. Was that portly Padre Ramon still teaching the rudiments of the Romance languages to the first year students?"

"Indeed he was, Your Excellency," smiled Diego. "He was my instructor in the history of Rome as well."

"And he did have you recite the opening pages of _'Il Cortegiano'_ until you had done it correctly?" asked Santigo.

"Many times, Your Excellency, many times," smiled Diego. "I think he was particularly interested to see that I got it right. He would even make me begin again if he did not think I was breathing properly during the recitation."

"Yes, that was Padre Ramon's way, laughed Santiago. "He was no different when I was there. But I was fond of the man, nevertheless."

"As was I, Your Excellency," said Diego. "I think he was sorry for me, being a provincial, and took me under his wing. We spent many happy hours together playing chess and discussing many interesting topics. He was the one who helped me in my choice of studies."

"And you had no interest in the more manly arts, Don Diego?" asked Santiago as he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. Diego's eyes were drawn there. "Most fathers send their sons to the university in order for them to become accomplished in the more physical and practical of the schools of education. You never took up the sword while you were there? Not even out of curiosity?"

Diego put on his best Diego guise and said, "Well, Your Excellency, I did enroll in those classes at my father's wish. But I came to realize that this is a more enlightened age, and thrusting swords at one another was quite old fashioned and accomplished very little." Diego paused and looked at Santiago's sword again as though slightly embarrassed. "I hope I give no offence, Excellency," he said, turning serious. Santiago smiled indulgently and waved him to continue. Diego said, "When the students began to duel among themselves, I decided to turn to other, more satisfying pursuits." Diego was quite used to this cover story by now. He had concealed himself with this refrain from the first moment he had met Capitán Monastario those many months ago. Then, he had used it with the enthusiasm of youth. Now he used it because it was part of his life.

"So you pursued a more liberal education. The arts and sciences," Santiago probed.

"It was much more to my liking, Your Excellency. I was doing rather well, if I do say so myself, before my father sent word to return home," replied Diego. "I was especially fond of the study of music and literature."

"You say your father sent word for you to return home, Diego? What were his reasons, if I may be so bold as to ask?" said Santiago.

"There were problems here in California which he did not wish to face alone, Your Excellency," said Diego. He was conscious that as always, he would have to tread carefully around this topic. Santiago was a well educated man and he was a magistrado, a man used to sifting through facts and stories to get to the truth. After all, one of the duties of his office was to be a prosecutor. Diego had no doubt but that he was an excellent one.

Santiago was nodding his head. "This would have been about the time that Capitán Monastario was plaguing the district would it not?" Seeing Diego's nod of affirmation, he continued, "The Governor had assigned me to a temporary post in San Francisco before he was taken into custody by the Viceroy. But I heard something about the case while there."

Diego said, "I do not like to speak ill of one of his Majesty's military officers, Your Excellency, but Capitán Monastario is well gone. His greed and warped sense of justice were a heavy burden for the people to bear."

Santiago decided to draw Diego out. "Warped sense of justice, eh?" he said, musing. "It is interesting you would put it in those terms. Some would say that he was . . . ambitious." He noticed that Diego's eyes narrowed slightly at this term.

"Your Excellency," said Diego. "It is not merely ambition which drives a man to climb over the backs of those he has sworn to defend in order that his own substance may be increased. Capitán Monastario pushed at the law, bending it to his will, in order that he might appear to be within its bounds while all the while taking, by increments, that which he wanted."

"And what was it he wanted?" Santiago wanted to know. Inwardly he smiled at the earnestness of the young don's response concerning Monastario.

"It is said, Your Excellency, that he wanted to be the richest man in all California."

Santiago felt the first pang of uneasiness at this response which so closely matched his own ambition. But he dismissed it. Of course the man wanted to get rich. Unless you were rich, like the de la Vegas, you did what you could to get rich. But Monastario had been clumsy. He was apparently like so many others Santiago had met in his travels with the Viceroy. Having a little power, they thought themselves clever enough to use it. Santiago now had power as a result of his appointment as the Magistrado, which was above that of a mere commandanté, and he knew he was clever enough to use it. The difference between him and Monastario was that he was going to succeed.

Returning his thoughts to Diego, Santiago said, "I know very little of the particulars of his case. If he never broke the law, of what crime was he guilty?"

Levelly, Diego said, "Miscarriage of justice, Señor Magistrado. There is a right way and a wrong way to perform one's duties as an officer of the King. For personal gain, Monastario chose the wrong way. There was no justice for anyone under Monastario's rule, most especially among those least able to help themselves."

Santiago really did not care so much about the particulars concerning Monastario, but he was finding it fascinating to watch the young man before him. Yes, this Diego was indeed an idealist, not a realist. He saw the world the way he wanted it to be, not the way it was. Santiago already knew that Diego had an affinity for the lower classes and he was possessed of at least some vestiges of the de la Vega honor and integrity, and, he believed completely in the concept of justice as an ideal. He could be easily led by someone who knew how to do it with subtlety. And Santiago was sure that he was that someone.

"Well, Don Diego," said Santiago. "I must say that goes against my grain. Justice is my passion, thus my motto, which you have no doubt heard."

Diego smiled and saluted with his glass, "Justice is served."

Santiago saluted and smiled in return. "If Monastario trampled on Señorita Justice in order to line his own purse or in an attempt to gain power, then he is indeed well gone. Let me see. I believe Capitán Monastario was remanded to the military courts in Spain, if memory serves."

Diego held his glass for Bernardo to refill as he said, "My father has had close ties with the Governor since Monastario attempted to try him for treason. The Governor was gracious enough to communicate with my father concerning Monastario's fate and I do believe that he was sent back to Spain."

Santiago was suddenly struck by the fact that Monastario had attempted to try Don Alejandro for treason. He had been far too involved with other projects for the Governor at the time to pay more than cursory attention to the minor activities of a local despot. He must find out more. "You say that your father was tried for treason, Don Diego?" he asked.

Diego smiled. "Capitán Monastario thought to frame both my father and our neighbor, Don Ignacio Torres for treason and have them executed. Then he would have been able to confiscate their lands and properties for himself. A nasty business. But he did not reckon with the Governor . . . and with Zorro."

"What do you mean?" asked Santiago, leaning forward a bit in his desire to know more. He was quite concerned at how close Monastario's scheme was to that of his own. This revelation might have a bearing on everything that Santiago had planned to do.

"The Governor sent the finest judge in all California to Los Angeles for the trial, Excellency. Sebastian Vasca. Capitán Monastario knew that he would not stand a chance of convicting his prisoners if Judge Vasca were to preside. He needed the conviction so that he might legally execute them for treason and gain even more power in the district. He tried to prevent Judge Vasca from coming to the trial and substituted his own man as judge. Zorro made sure that Judge Vasca was freed from Monastario's trap and, . . . shall we say, convinced the Capitán's false judge to render a verdict of not guilty, all at the same time."

"At the same time," mused Santiago. "Quite a feat."

Diego smiled and secretly enjoyed the fact that it was he and Bernardo who had pulled that off. It was one of their better forays into the world of jurisprudence. He felt Bernardo nudge his chair from behind as the servant communicated with him that he was sharing similar thoughts. He lifted his glass just a bit higher than was necessary in order to acknowledge Bernardo in a subtle salute as he took another drink of his wine, never taking his eyes off of the Magistrado. He knew that Bernardo would see it, but not give himself away. An answering nudge was his confirmation that this was so.

Dismissing for now the activities of the outlaw, Santiago's need to know more about Don Alejandro and the Governor took precedence. So he asked, "Your father and the Governor are quite close eh?"

"I would not say that they are familiar friends, Excellency, but especially since the affair with the Eagle, the Governor has been in regular communication with my father and I believe I may say he holds my father in the highest regard."

Santiago leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard while he was thinking. How had he missed this close alliance with the Governor and the elder de la Vega? He had been out of Monterey on several occasions, but he had thought himself fully informed. Apparently the Governor saw nothing amiss in keeping some things even from his most trusted aides. Oh, certainly there had been references to the important men in the Los Angeles area, and Don Alejandro's name was not unfamiliar to Santiago, but the Governor's deep respect and friendship for the elder de la Vega had escaped his notice before now. This was a serious matter. This might put the elder de la Vega out of reach in so far as a charge of treason being prosecuted against him. He would have to rethink his whole approach to the plans he was formulating. His attention was brought back to the present by Diego.

"Your Excellency?" said Diego, looking concerned. "Are you all right?"

Santiago recovered quickly and said, "I am fine, Don Diego. Something you said reminded me of another matter which I must attend to at a later time." He shook his head. "Please forgive me."

"Of course, Your Excellency," said Diego.

Behind Diego, Bernardo was studying the Magistrado closely. Something about the man was unsettling. There was nothing he could place his finger upon, but the look in Santiago's dark eyes when he found out the Governor had the greatest respect for Don Alejandro, led him to think there was a deeper reason for Santiago's visit than a mere social call. His excuse for his lapse of attention seemed to be rather weak in Bernardo's estimation. He would keep a close watch on this new Magistrado for his master's sake. He was well aware of Diego's abilities in assessing people's characters, but he also knew that sometimes one only saw what one wanted to see. He knew Diego wanted Señor Santiago to be an honest and decent official of the government. He wanted what was best for the people of his homeland. Bernardo wanted this also, but he was beginning to wonder if Señor Santiago was that man. He certainly presented himself as an honorable man and he could not be faulted in anything which he had done since taking up his post in Los Angeles. But there was still that something which pricked Bernardo in the back of his mind concerning the Magistrado. He scrutinized the man more closely.

Santiago decided that he would ask just a few more questions about Don Alejandro's relationship with the Governor and then leave the subject altogether. After all, Diego was still an unknown quantity in his equation for success. It would not do to arouse the young man's curiosity with too many questions of a certain nature. He had discerned nothing to indicate Diego was anything but what his neighbors thought of him, but caution was the Magistrado's watch word. He had time on his side. Still, he would like to know more about Don Alejandro, and his son would be a good source of information.

"So it is safe to assume that with this special relationship your father holds with the Governor, any further charges of treason against Don Alejandro . . . by anyone . . . would be met with great skepticism?" he asked. "If I were Don Alejandro, that thought would give me great comfort."

Diego smiled. "Yes, Your Excellency. Unless my father was caught directly in such an act by absolutely credible witnesses, mere circumstantial evidence would never sway the Governor that my father was anything but a loyal patriot. The Governor knows, just as I know, that my father would never betray his country or his king. My father has proven his loyalty many times, most recently in the affair of the Eagle. The citizen's army that he raised with the Governor's approval was instrumental in defeating the would be usurper."

Santiago was by now getting rather tired of everyone's references concerning the "affair of the Eagle", but no doubt it was the most exciting thing which had ever happened to the pueblo and there was also no doubt that it was the closest moment the mother country had ever come to losing her colony of California. And Don Alejandro's actions in defending the pueblo and creating the citizen's army had without a doubt saved the colony, thereby saving the Governor's precious job for him. Yes, he could see where Don Alejandro might be unassailable if a charge of treason were brought against him. The Governor was deep in political debt to the elder de la Vega.

Santiago decided he would have to take time to reassess every piece of information he had gathered to this point and see where it led him. He was still convinced that the de la Vega family was the key to his plans; no one else he had met had held such promise, but perhaps the emphasis should be shifted to the son instead of the father. This thought intrigued him greatly.

"Well, Don Diego," he said, smiling. "I am very glad to know that my district is home to such a man as your father. California needs strong men such as he." Diego bowed to show his acceptance of his father's praise. Santiago decided to change the subject entirely. "My wife, Gracilia, was able to recall the tale of the burro's confession, Don Diego. It brought a moment of happiness to her to relate to me the events. It was quite an amusing little story."

Diego was pleased. "I am glad to hear this, Your Excellency. My dignity is but a small price to pay if it will bring even a mere moment's pleasure to Señora Gracilia. May I be permitted to call upon her? I could play some music for her or read to her if it would help her to pass the time."

Santiago shook his head sadly as he replied, "I am afraid not, Don Diego. She is simply not strong enough to have visitors. Even relating the story of the burro was more than her weakened constitution could bear. She was confined to her bed for days afterwards."

Diego was appalled. "I am so sorry to have caused her to suffer, Your Excellency," he said in earnest distress.

Santiago held up his hand to calm the young don. "Do not blame yourself, Don Diego. It is her illness which is to blame. I am sure that if I were to ask her, she would say the same. She would not want you to worry about her in the least. Everything that can be done for her has been done, I assure you." He continued, "Now, would you care to favor me with a piece or two on the piano while we wait for Don Alejandro to return? If your ability with the guitar is any indication, this will be a most pleasant way to pass the time."

Still unsettled by the degree of Gracilia's illness, Diego, nevertheless, said, "Of course, Your Excellency, I would be most happy to play for you." He decided he would light a candle for Señora Gracilia at the church and pray for her the next time he was there. Turning from his concerns about Gracilia, Diego was finding that he was becoming quite comfortable with this Magistrado. It seemed they shared the same goals and the same interests. And it was obvious Santiago cared for his wife as much as his own father had cared for his mother during her illness. He found himself wishing that he did not have to maintain his facade in front of the Magistrado. He found himself desiring to be who he really was in order that he might be able to call Santiago a friend. Bernardo was a great and true friend, but somehow that was not quite the same as being known as an equal among your peers.

Realizing that he could do nothing about the situation at present, he put down his glass and both men went into the sala.

Bernardo remained behind to put away the glasses and the wine, but his eyes followed the two men, so alike and yet somehow so different.


	11. B1 Ch10: The de la Vega Rancho

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 10 – _The de la Vega Rancho_**

Diego was playing the piano with Santiago standing just behind him listening with rapt enjoyment, when Don Alejandro returned home. He waited politely while Diego finished the piece and then greeted the Magistrado.

"Your Excellency, I am so sorry I was not here to greet you when you arrived," he said. "Diego has seen to your comfort? Is there anything you wish?"

Santiago smiled and said, "Do not worry, Don Alejandro. I have been well received by Don Diego. He was just playing a few songs for me at my request. We have had a splendid visit and I thank him for that. But now I should like to spend some time with you if you would be so generous? I would like to see your lands, your vineyards and your cattle. And I understand that you have bred some fine horses as well. As you know, it is my wish to become well acquainted with all those in my district."

Don Alejandro bowed. "It would give me the greatest pleasure to show you the de la Vega rancho, Your Excellency. I am at your service."

Santiago turned to Diego. "Would you care to accompany us, Don Diego?"

Smiling, Diego said with a small bow, "Of course, Your Excellency."

Don Alejandro was a bit surprised, as Diego normally took no interest in the workings of the rancho, but then he decided that Diego was coming along because it was the Magistrado who had asked for his company. It no longer occurred to him to make the effort to ask his son to accompany him as he made the daily rounds of the rancho. He had been turned down too many times. Throwing away any further dark thoughts he may have had about Diego's choices, he escorted the Magistrado out of the house.

The Magistrado was impressed when Don Alejandro took him to the vineyards and let him see the wine making operation and the wine cellar. The three of them discussed how the soils and the climate were right for growing the grapes which produced such excellent wines. Santiago admired the many grapevines, just beginning to show the tender new leaf buds of spring. They all agreed that wine was a commodity which could be exported and they talked about how this could enhance California's standing as an exporting colony if they could get all the landholders to join in the effort.

All three men were very knowledgeable about wine and they enjoyed their conversation together. In this subject, Diego was able to participate completely, discussing the topic without fear of exposing himself. He found a curious freedom in this.

After reviewing the winery, Don Alejandro took the Magistrado next to see his horses. He was especially proud to show Princessa to Señor Santiago. That she was Don Alejandro's pride and joy was evident in the grand smile on his face as she was brought over to them. One of the vaqueros tending the herd saddled her for the Magistrado and he rode her in a large circuit around the valley, leaning forward and letting her fly. He was smiling with satisfaction when he returned.

"She is magnificent, Don Alejandro!" he exclaimed, as he pulled up beside Diego and his father. Princessa was breathing deeply, but was not winded. "I believe that she could run all day and never feel it. And such speed!" Santiago reached down and stroked the filly's neck as she moved restlessly beneath him. "I have never seen a faster horse."

Proudly, Don Alejandro said, "She has never lost a race, Your Excellency. No one can catch her."

"Oh, there is one horse who might be able to beat her," said Diego, with a sly look on his face.

When the other men looked at him, he said, "Zorro's horse, Tornado."

"Humph!" said Don Alejandro gruffly, dismissing that thought out of hand. "I would like to see him try. Princessa would leave him like he was standing still."

"Well said, Don Alejandro, well said!" said Santiago, laughing. "Perhaps we should extend an invitation to this Zorro for a match race. Then, once Princessa has beaten him, we will arrest him for being so arrogant as to believe he could win such a race!"

Diego joined in with the laughter of the other two men. He loved Princessa well, but he knew who would win such a race. Tornado had never met his match. Of course, he could not say this out loud, but it was true nevertheless.

Santiago said, "Don Alejandro, I know you could never be convinced to part with Princessa, but I would deem it a honor if you would allow me to purchase her first foal when it is time." In the recesses of his mind, he already owned Princessa and this rancho, but he must continue to play his game.

Don Alejandro was feeling quite magnanimous and said, "It would be my honor to give her first foal to Your Excellency. As a gift."

"Oh no, Don Alejandro, I could not let you do that," said Santiago. "It is too much. No, I will buy the foal from you for a fair price."

Don Alejandro would not have it. "Please, Your Excellency. Princessa's first colt is yours and I will not accept a centavo in payment." His face was set.

Santiago did not wish to antagonize the man, at least not now, and so he graciously accepted the gift. It did not matter. By the time such a foal would be born, Santiago knew that he would be its owner one way or another. He smiled.

Reluctantly turning the filly over to the vaquero, Santiago mounted his own horse and the trio continued their tour. He was impressed at Don Alejandro's vast land holdings and his herds of cattle. There were at least three large herds, watched over by the de la Vega vaqueros, in various sections of the rancho. Santiago noticed how Diego held back from the discussions about the cattle and the hides and tallow they produced. Don Alejandro ignored this lack of interest by his son, delving into the details of cattle breeding with gusto. Santiago listened politely.

Diego had decided he must put on his guise again before his father became suspicious concerning his newfound interest in the rancho and let his palomino drift away from the conversation of the other two men. He again began to reflect upon what he was going to do with his life if the need for El Zorro was over. This was nothing new. He had pondered the question many times. He was indeed interested in the breeding of cattle and horses, but he could not let himself appear so, not and maintain his disguise. He felt that he needed to be doing something useful with his life, but as long as there might arise a need for his services as Zorro, he would not let what he had so carefully built up as his image be compromised. However, it was becoming harder to still the restlessness growing inside of him. His attention was drawn back to his father as he was hailed. He was surprised to see how far away he had drifted.

"Diego!" called Don Alejandro across the distance. "We are going now."

Diego raised his hand to acknowledge him, and galloped his horse to rejoin the two men. They continued up into the high ground until they reached the hill just to the east of the hacienda. From this vantage point, a vast panorama was spread out before them. They could see the hacienda and all the out buildings, the corral, and the road which passed the hacienda leading into Los Angeles.

Proudly, Don Alejandro made a sweeping motion with his hand as he said, "All the land you see, Your Excellency, is de la Vega land."

"Very impressive," said Santiago, sincerely. He had decided here and now, that no matter how much land and property he was soon to acquire with his scheme, this place, the de la Vega rancho, was going to be his home. He dearly wanted to possess it. He would never sell it to the Americanos.

As if to echo his thoughts, Don Alejandro said, "This place is a part of me, Your Excellency. There is nowhere on earth I would rather be. I will never leave it. When I die, I will return to the earth from whence I came." He pointed to their left, toward a small graveyard shaded by a single large tree.

There, Santiago could see several graves, lovingly cared for, surrounded by a low iron fence. They turned their horses and approached at a walk. Santiago read the names on the headstones and knew this was the family cemetery. He could see the name Isabella on one stone and knew from the date of her passing that this must be the grave of Don Alejandro's wife, Diego's mother. He removed his hat out of respect. He was able to observe the look on Don Alejandro's face and knew that the elder de la Vega still grieved for the loss of his wife. He saw how the father reached out and put his hand on the shoulder of his son, looking for comfort and offering the same. Pressing his lips tightly together, Santiago considered his own wife. She was neither living nor dead. If she were the one lying there in the ground, would it make any difference to him? At the moment, he could not imagine that it would, except that he would then have his freedom. Freedom to seek another . . . .

Don Alejandro broke into his thoughts as he said, "Well, Your Excellency, you have seen a great portion of the rancho, though by no means all of it. Would you like to return to the hacienda for some refreshments?"

Recovering quickly, Santiago said with a smile, "Sí, Don Alejandro, I would like that." With one last glance at the graves, he followed the de la Vegas as they rode down the path leading back to the hacienda. He spent a few moments drinking a glass of wine in the patio with them, then made his farewells. As he rode back to the pueblo, he mused upon all he had learned so far. The main thing which stood out from all the rest was that Don Alejandro de la Vega could not be accused of treason. He was powerful man, too well respected by his peers and with too many friends in high places, chief among them the governor. He was untouchable. No, the man he would target would have to be another. His thoughts turned to the son.

Diego de la Vega.

Yes, this had certain possibilities. While Santiago could not get at Don Alejandro directly, there was no such protection for the son. Not if he worked it right. Accuse the son of treason, with such damning evidence as Santiago was sure that he could manufacture, and there would be nothing the old man could do. Everyone already knew Diego had a certain reputation for being a non-conformist. What better cover for a conspirator than that of the idle rich man's son who was a scholar and music lover? Then, in a moment of inspiration, from sources he did not stop to question, Santiago had it. He knew the basis for his whole plan now. From this framework, he would build his whole case against Diego and split the de la Vegas wide apart. He would use this almost mythical character of El Zorro, building him into the fearsome leader of an army concealed somewhere in the mountains. An army just waiting to be unleashed on the population of California. This outlaw would be using Diego as his front man, gathering munitions and supplies for his army along with gathering intelligence concerning troop movements and intercepting official communications. And where would Diego be able to get such information as this? Why, he would be appointed as the assistant deputy to the Magistrado, that's where.

Yes, Santiago could see it all now. He would appeal to young de la Vega's sense of honor and justice and prey upon his idealism. Santiago would prevail upon him to join the Magistrado's office as his assistant. He was sure that he could accomplish this. He would use this to direct de la Vega to this place or that, to be seen with certain men whom Santiago could prove beyond the shadow of a doubt had been involved in that vile conspiracy of the Eagle's and who had now joined the conspiracy of El Zorro. He would plant evidence here and there, building up his case behind Diego's back until it was air tight. As a final bit of top dressing, he would have Diego arrested in the act of meeting with his traitorous leader, El Zorro. And what of Zorro? he mused. The real Zorro had disappeared. No one had seen him since the demise of the Eagle. He had vanished as mysteriously as he had come. Santiago was inclined to believe that, whoever he had been, he had either moved on or had met with some death or other. Men who lived by the sword were apt to die by the sword. Perhaps his horse had merely stumbled on some dark night and he had fallen and broken his outlaw's neck in some out of the way place, never to be found. In any case, using Zorro's name would suit his purpose now and he had just the man to take Zorro's place, one of those he had hidden, so the outlaw could be seen lurking about the district when necessary.

And what would this conviction and hanging of young de la Vega do for his plans? One: it would send a chill of fear throughout this entire region of California, setting everyone's nerves on edge. Two: It would break the old man's heart, leaving him vulnerable in the way no frontal assault could do. Three: Santiago would continue to have rumors circulated about Zorro's army preparing to attack. Four: He would push at old Alejandro and his broken heart and induce him to sell out to his friend, the Magistrado and leave the country. Five: With Don Alejandro's influence broken, the dam would burst and the rest of the landowners would be ready to stampede, leaving him to pick up their lands at ridiculously low prices. Six: All he would have to do then would be to consolidate his holdings and wait upon the Americanos to come. Seven: He would enjoy the rest of his life as a rich and powerful man.

These were only the rough details, of course. Santiago knew he would spend a great deal of time carefully crafting his scheme, allowing nothing to escape his scrutiny. Never would he move in haste. No, softly and inexorably he would build his case against Diego de la Vega, just as a serpent moves in for the kill. And when he struck, there would be no escape.


	12. B1 Ch11: The Operative

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 11 – _The Operative_**

Early spring turned into late spring and everything in the pueblo was going smoothly. Sergeant Garcia had taken up his belt by two whole notches, and the rest of the soldiers were shaping up as well. The increased lancer patrols kept the bandidos away and everyone could concentrate on their work.

In the weeks that passed ever more slowly, as there was little for him to do, Diego again began to entertain the thought that Zorro might have ridden his last. One afternoon, as he and Bernardo were riding back from a visit to Padre Felipe at the mission, Diego finally spoke his thoughts out loud.

"You know, Bernardo, the new Magistrado is quite good." Bernardo nodded in agreement. "I am beginning to think that as long as Señor Santiago remains our Magistrado, there will be no need for Zorro to ride. In fact, I have been thinking for a long time now that Zorro can retire permanently." Bernardo immediately looked worried. He made signs which said Diego had thoughts like that before and then the Eagle had come upon the scene. "I know, Bernardo. But this time it is different. Our Magistrado upholds the law and is just. With Sergeant Garcia as acting commandanté and Señor Santiago as Magistrado, we can be sure the law will be administered fairly and our district will be protected by regular lancer patrols. Surely you do not think that every commandanté, magistrado, or administrado who comes to Los Angeles will be evil, self-seeking men?" Bernardo nodded and then shrugged his shoulders to show his indecision. He was still reserving judgement on the current government official. "Well, I do not believe that," said Diego. "I know there are others in this country of ours who believe in the same things that we do, and I have come to believe Señor Santiago is one of them. And until you can show me proof he thinks otherwise, I will continue to believe that."

Bernardo looked at Diego closely. He could tell Diego was earnest in his belief about Santiago. He had learned to trust his master's instincts since their arrival from Spain, especially in his assessment of men. But he had instincts too, and he was not completely settled concerning Santiago. But then, he was very protective of his young master, and had taken upon himself the task of watching over him. Perhaps that was all it was, being overprotective. Finally, Bernardo shrugged and said to himself that until he could prove to himself and Diego otherwise, he would accept that Santiago was what he appeared to be. He bowed in the saddle to show he accepted Diego's last statement.

Diego laughed and said, "Ah, my suspicious friend. You will see." They rode on in silence for a few moments. Diego's thoughts turned again to what he would do next with his life. He knew he did not wish to continue being the seemingly carefree Diego whom he had created so that Zorro could live, but how to stop? He could not just suddenly change into something different without questions being asked, especially by his father. He didn't have the answer right now, but he would find it. He had to. With a quiet sigh, he looked sideways at Bernardo who was gazing out at the countryside as they rode along. Then a boyish grin found it's way to his face. As long as he was still a young and carefree caballero, why not? "I'll race you home!" he cried out and urged his palomino into a gallop. Bernardo was slack jawed for just a moment, then he put his horse into a gallop, trying to catch up. Diego was way out in front as he looked back once more at Bernardo, and he waved before he disappeared around a bend in the road. Bernardo pulled up sharply and thought for a moment. Then he turned his horse off of the road and they plunged into the brush.

When Diego rode up to the hacienda, he was astounded to find Bernardo leaning on the gate of the patio, twirling the reins of his horse in his hands, looking as if he did not have a care in the world. Diego leaped off of his horse in front of Bernardo. In his excitement, he said loudly, "How did . . . ?" At Bernardo's caution, he lowered his voice to a whisper and said, "How did you get here ahead of me?"

Bernardo pointed across country. "That's not fair!" said Diego in a loud whisper. Bernardo just smiled and shrugged his shoulders, taking Diego's reins from his hands as he started to take the horses back to the stables, smug in his victory. He was pulled up short as Diego grabbed the tail of his jacket and would not let go. Pointing to the right leg of Bernardo's trousers, just below the hip, Diego said dryly, "Your victory has ventilated your clothing, my friend." Bernardo turned and looked down at himself, seeing a rent in his trousers from his hip to the back of his knee. He grabbed the material and tried to hold it together with one hand while he held all the reins in the other. Laughing, Diego patted his horse on the nose and then patted Bernardo on the head as he walked jauntily into the patio. Bernardo was left to walk as best as he might to the stables with the horses, still holding his trousers together with a look of chagrin on his face.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

In the pueblo that same afternoon, a stranger rode into the plaza. Rather plain in most respects, a thick black mustache was his only distinguishing feature. He wore the clothing characteristic of the merchant class. Sergeant Garcia spotted the man as he tied his horse in front of the tavern and went to investigate.

"Señor!" he called. The man paused at the door of the tavern.

"Sí?"

"Señor, I must ask you a few questions, if you don't mind," said Garcia, as he approached.

"What kind of questions, Sergeant?" said the man.

"I must know your name and where you are from," replied Garcia. "And what business brings you here to Los Angeles."

The man looked Garcia up and down, making the Sergeant uncomfortable for some reason, and then said, "My name is Claudio Lozano. I am a merchant from Santa Barbara and I have come to see if I would like to open a shop here in this pueblo." He looked around at the plaza. "Now that I am here, I am not so sure that this is a good idea." He shrugged slightly and then said, "But Señor Santiago told me this would be a good place to open a second shop in order to expand my business, and so I have come."

Garcia was relieved to hear that the Magistrado knew the man. "Ah, His Excellency, the Magistrado. Why didn't you say so? His office is just over there," he said pointing to the building across the way. "I will take you there myself." He started walking toward the Magistrado's office and Lozano had no choice but to turn and walk with him or be run over. They went up the stairs and Garcia knocked on the Magistrado's door.

"Who is it?" came from within.

"Sergeant Garcia, Your Excellency!" said Garcia brightly. "I have a man here who has come from Santa Barbara to see you, Your Excellency!" Lozano just stared at the Sergeant as they stood there.

"You may enter," said Santiago.

Garcia opened the door and ushered Lozano into the office. Snapping to attention, he said, "Señor, this is His Excellency, Jorgé Martinez Santiago, Magistrado for the pueblo of Los Angeles." Indicating the man beside him he said, "Your Excellency, Claudio Lozano, a merchant from Santa Barbara."

Santiago stood up from his desk and smiled. "Ah, Señor Lozano. I see you have taken my advice and have come to our fair pueblo. Welcome." Lozano bowed deeply. Seeing the Sergeant still at attention, Santiago said, "Graciás, Sergeant. You may go now."

Saluting, Garcia left.

"You came in good time," said Santiago, looking back at Lozano.

"I came as soon as I got your message, Your Excellency," said Lozano.

"I trust the trip from Santa Barbara was uneventful?" asked Santiago.

"Sí, it was," replied Lozano.

"Sit down, we have much to discuss," said Santiago, nodding toward one of the chairs in front of his desk. When Lozano was seated he continued. "First, have you contacted our friend?"

"Sí. He was reluctant to have to leave his señorita at first, but . . . he came around," said Lozano with a small smile.

Santiago sighed. "Uresti does have his weaknesses," he said. "I trust he understands that I will have his undivided attention?" Santiago picked up his sword from his desk to admire the way light played upon its razor sharp edge.

"Sí, Your Excellency. I have made this clear. He knows who controls his fate," said Lozano.

"Excellent," said Santiago. "Things are beginning to come together, Lozano, and we have much to do. Everyone must be ready to do his part."

Lozano leaned forward and said, "May I ask what it is you intend to do, Señor Santiago? You know my loyalty to you has never wavered and yet you have not told me the specifics of your plans."

"Lozano, Lozano," said Santiago, his eyes still on his sword. "You know that I am a very careful man. Until my position here was secure, I could not afford any mistakes. The only way I could ensure that there are no mistakes was to tell no one of my plans." Suddenly, Lozano found the point of Santiago's sword at his throat. He looked up to see Santiago's dark eyes boring into his. "And that meant even you, my dear Lozano." Laughing, Santiago pulled the sword away from Lozano and leaned back in his chair. "In case you were inclined to do something foolish and found yourself in a position to talk." Santiago grew serious. "But now, I need you. And Uresti and the others. To you, I will tell my plans. As for the others, I will let them serve me in return for letting them live."

Lozano swallowed compulsively. He knew that he and all of Santiago's men were alive at the pleasure of the Magistrado. One mention that they were involved with the traitor, de Varga, with the evidence which Santiago no doubt had concealed somewhere, and their lives were over. And there was nothing any of them could do about it. Santiago was untouchable as long as he held the evidence. But Lozano had thrown his lot in with Santiago. He knew of the man's intelligence and subtlety. Varga had wielded himself like a blunt instrument. Santiago was like a stiletto. You would be dead before you felt the blade sliding between your ribs. Where he merely obeyed the Eagle, Lozano admired the Magistrado. He had been given back his life and he dedicated it to Santiago now. He returned his attention to the present as Santiago spoke.

Pointing vaguely to the east with his sword, Santiago said, "You know I toured parts of the United States of America before coming here to California? Yes? Well, I will tell you what I saw, Lozano. I saw the future of California." Seeing Lozano's puzzled look, he continued. "Lozano, in just a few years, the Americanos will come here. Whether they are wanted or not, they will come. It is in their blood. Already they are expanding westward into the interior of North America, pushing aside the red Indians in their haste to acquire the land. It is my belief that they will not stop until they reach us here in California. Now what does California have to offer that is worth anything?" Lozano did not answer. "Land, Lozano, land. And the ones who control the land when they come will have their fortune made. They can sell the land to the Americanos at inflated prices and they will pay."

"But California is still a possession of Spain," said Lozano. "It would be illegal to sell land to foreigners."

"The King cares little for us here in California," said Santiago. "Already Mexico has won her independence. Only the misguided loyalty of the dons keep California from doing the same thing. The Eagle had the right idea when he sought to take over California and sell her to the highest bidder, but he executed it poorly. I use subtlety where he used force, guile where he used power. And that is where you, Uresti and the others, de la Vega the elder, and de la Vega the younger enter the picture."

"I do not understand," said Lozano.

"Of course you do not. But you will. Listen." Santiago leaned forward, "I have a plan which will, in time, allow me to purchase vast tracts of California land for a fraction of their value. All I have to do is punch one hole in the dyke and the land is mine. At the center of the dyke is Alejandro de la Vega, the staunchest patriot in all California. If I can get him to sell out, the other landowners will follow."

"And how will you do that? He will not sell." said Lozano. He was a native Californiano and he knew of Alejandro de la Vega.

"Yes, he will," said Santiago flexing the blade of his sword between his hands. "I have made a study of Don Alejandro and his son Diego. I have made discreet inquiries among their friends. I know how to get to Don Alejandro. Indeed I do. And all the other landowners in the district for that matter. The one thing the landowners, rancheros and peons fear is another uprising like that of the Eagle. They all suffered greatly during his attempted take over. Bandit attacks, oppressive taxes, enslavement, disruption of the military. There were many who were on the verge of leaving California at that time. But Don Alejandro talked them out of it and forged them into a civilian army to defend their homeland. Even now, with the Eagle defeated, it would not take much to tip the scales and get them thinking about leaving once again. They know that the King cannot help them and that the military is thinly stretched and under supplied. All it would take would be rumors of another usurper which are proven to be true against one of their own."

"Alejandro de la Vega?" guessed Lozano.

"He certainly has possibilities," said Santiago. "But Alejandro de la Vega is unassailable in that he is the hero who defeated your former leader who would be emperor. He has gained the favor of the Governor which makes it all but impossible to directly charge him with anything remotely approaching treason."

"Then who . . ." began Lozano.

"I have chosen young Diego de la Vega, the son of Alejandro de la Vega, to be the new usurper." Santiago laughed as he watch Lozano's eyes widen in disbelief. "Yes, the son, the eccentric son, will be our target. And through him, Don Alejandro will fall."

Santiago continued. "I have studied the de la Vegas well. Old Alejandro is as proud an old bird as you will find. He has an old nobleman's sense of honor and integrity. No one has ever questioned the de la Vega honor, integrity or loyalty to the crown. They would not dare, or old Alejandro would fight them to the death. He has an only son, Diego, whose mother died at a young age. The old man lives for one thing. To see his rancho and all that he has worked for to be handed down to his only heir. Four years ago, old Alejandro sent his son away to Spain to become a man and he returned . . . a soft poet, a scholar and a musician."

Lozano sniffed in mild derision and smiled. He had heard of this also.

"Yes, you might smile," said Santiago. "But old Alejandro did not. Alejandro took a great deal of pride in his son. He was bitterly disappointed. Everyone in the pueblo knows this. But everyone in the pueblo also knows old Alejandro loves his son deeply despite his failings. And that is what I will use against him, Lozano. I have carefully cultivated my reputation of the fair and just magistrado which appeals to the younger de la Vega's imagination. His naivete about the real world might be charming in other circumstances, but it is merely useful to me now. We are going to set a trap for young de la Vega and when we spring it, he will be convicted and hanged for treasonous acts against the King. I know that this will devastate Don Alejandro. He will have nothing left for which to live. At the same time, we will continue to agitate the other landowners with tales and evidence of further conspiracies. I even plan to make use of this outlaw Zorro who has inhabited this district for some time. That is where Uresti comes in. He will be my Zorro, doing my bidding. I will continue to push at old Alejandro and his broken heart until he gives way and then he will sell out to me. Once he does, the rest will follow. I will buy up all the land I can at ridiculously low prices, ready to hold it and sell it to the Americanos when they arrive. Why, we may even make a few pesos selling cattle hides and tallow while we wait," laughed Santiago.

Lozano smiled also. He knew that he would have a place with Santiago as long as he was faithful to the man. "What then are your orders for me?" he asked.

"That is why I like you, Lozano," said Santiago putting his sword back into its sheath on his desk. "You always get right to the point and you never ask about money."

"You have always taken care of me quite well," said Lozano.

Santiago nodded. "Yes, I have at that. This then is what I want you to do . . ."


	13. B1 Ch12: The Offer and the Acceptance

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 12 – _The Offer and the Acceptance_**

Lozano received a permit from the Magistrado for a general merchandise shop to be opened in Los Angeles. He purchased one of the buildings on the road leading to San Pedro, and soon had it well stocked with goods. He was a frequent visitor to the Magistrado's office as he imported many of his wares from the other colonies of Spain in South America and from the Orient, and needed to acquire the necessary permits.

Lozano also frequented the tavern where he took his meals and kept a room. He did not purchase his own home in Los Angeles he said, because he had to divide his time between his establishment in Santa Barbara and the new shop in the pueblo. When he was gone, he left his new venture in the care of a man named Aredo whom he had hired as his assistant. Aredo was a quick and agile man, well liked by all of his customers. Everyone of substance in Los Angeles welcomed Lozano's new shop because it carried the finer items which had never been abundant in Los Angeles. Fine linens and textiles, clothing and perfume, cutlery and china, these and more were available for purchase.

Santiago was amused at the tidy profit Lozano's shop was making after being open for several weeks. The former Eagle's man could have made quite a decent living on the sales he made to the Los Angeles upper classes. But they were after larger things. The store made a nice front for Lozano's frequent comings and goings. He was to be Santiago's liaison between him and all his other operatives. Through Lozano, Santiago could communicate his wishes to his men and be assured all was in place when the time came.

Neither man had ever seen the masked bandit Zorro in person, but based upon the descriptions they were able to get from Sergeant Garcia and others, they came up with a costume for Uresti to wear. Lozano secured a black horse in Santa Barbara and left it in the corral at Aredo's home on the outskirts of the pueblo. Uresti would not have to leave his señorita just yet, but when he did he would have no problem in impersonating the outlaw. Santiago had carefully plotted in his mind how he would build his case against Diego and the bandit Zorro, and he was willing to take as long as necessary to make sure everything would go as he wished. Lozano reported his progress and took away new orders each time he visited the Magistrado alone.

Finally, Santiago was ready to make his first move. He would find an opportunity to speak with Diego de la Vega and he amused himself with the thought that the young don would never know what was going to happen to him until it was too late. The Magistrado knew he could have written up the formal charges against young de la Vega now, so sure was he of success. But he did not. While he had been absolutely meticulous in his planning, he was a realist and did not place the cart before the horse. He was ever mindful of the Eagle's failure. He would not succumb to hubris.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

In the days just before spring turned into early summer, Diego rode into the pueblo alone, intending to spend some enjoyable time at the tavern. Bernardo had remained at the hacienda in order to do some spring cleaning and he had indicated that Diego would just be in the way. Pretending to be highly insulted, Diego nevertheless slapped Bernardo good naturedly on the shoulder and departed. As he dismounted and tied his horse to the hitching post under the trees in the plaza, he was greeted by Santiago, who was walking toward his office. Diego was happy to see the Magistrado. He often saw Santiago when he came into the pueblo and they had a familiar acquaintance.

"Don Diego, it is good to see you," said Santiago warmly, bowing slightly.

"Buenas tardes, Magistrado," said Diego returning the polite bow.

"I trust your father is in his usual good health? I have not seen him about the pueblo for some time," inquired Santiago.

"Oh, yes, my father is well. He is occupied with the spring cattle drives at present and so has little time to spare at the moment."

"It must be quite satisfying to have so many cattle to count that you do not have time for anything else," said Santiago with a smile.

Diego returned the smile, "My father thinks so, Your Excellency."

Santiago laughed. "I admire your sense of humor, Don Diego."

Diego continued to smile. Then, as he almost always did, he politely inquired about Señora Gracilia's health. "Señora Santiago, is she . . .?"

Santiago shook his head negatively. "No, nothing has changed, Don Diego, except perhaps the medicine is no longer as effective as it once was. She has been taking larger doses to achieve the same poor results. But thank you for asking."

"My sympathies, Your Excellency," said Diego.

"Graciás." Santiago paused, then said, "Don Diego, I wonder if you would come up to my office? I have something I should like to ask you, and this seems like the perfect opportunity." Then looking at the tavern and back at Diego, he said, "Unless I would be keeping you from some more important engagement?"

Since Diego did not have any real plans, there would be nothing lost by going with the Magistrado. "Of course I would be delighted to assist you in any way possible," he said at once. "Whatever is in the tavern will still be there at a later time. I am at your service, Your Excellency." Diego bowed.

"Good. Come with me then." Together, the two men went up the stairs into the Magistrado's office. "Please, be seated," said Santiago pointing to a chair in front of his desk. As he removed his sword and placed it upon his desk, he asked, "Would you care for some wine?" At Diego's nod, Santiago poured a glass and served it to Diego before pouring his own glass and seating himself in his chair.

Diego's eyes lingered upon the hilt of Santiago's sword as he sipped his wine. He remarked again to himself at the fine workmanship in the engraving. He had not had an opportunity before now to study its design so closely. This time he noted that the initial denoting Santiago's name was more than it seemed. The ornate letter "S" was artfully engraved in the likeness of a serpent. It was not obvious until you looked very closely. Diego was further impressed that Master de Vida had gone to such expense for a student of his. There was no doubt that the design was the work of a master sword maker. The scabbard was equally well made. No wonder Santiago had such pride in wearing the gift. His thoughts were interrupted as Santiago spoke.

"Don Diego, you see before you someone who needs help," he said. Santiago was pleased by the puzzled look on Diego's face. "I know, it seems strange I should say that, but hear me out. I find myself in need of someone who knows the surrounding countryside and its people to assist me. I had thought of your father or some of the other landowners, but as you say, they are all busy counting their cattle and running their ranchos and it would not be fair to pull one of them away from their primary duties. So, I was wondering if you, Diego, would be willing to work with me? I know you are an intelligent man and that you have been educated in Spain. You know the people of the district and they know you. I know you believe in the cause of justice just as I do. We are alike in this. What do you say to such a request?"

Diego could not help but be flattered. Most, if not all of the people of the district liked him well enough, but the persona he had assumed since his return from Spain had left everyone thinking that he was basically useless. And now the Magistrado was seeking him out, asking for his help. Still, his cautious nature asserted itself, and, as he looked over the wine glass he held in his hands, he asked, "May I inquire as to the nature of this work I would be doing, Your Excellency?"

Santiago smiled, seeing the caution in the young man. "This is a big district, Diego. There are many matters which must be handled through this office. I want you to join my office as an assistant deputy to the Magistrado to help me in the performance of my duties. I will send you out as my personal representative when I am unable to go myself. In time, as you learn, you can be given more authority to handle legal matters in the field using your own judgement and knowledge of the law, bringing to me only those cases which are of sufficient magnitude to require my personal attention. This last will take time, of course, and must be approved by the Governor himself, but I do not foresee any difficulties in that regard. For now, though, I need someone who can go to the people and gather information regarding the various cases that come before me. Someone the people can trust. My predecessor seems to have made the people fearful of anyone in my position and it is quite often not very easy to get accurate information from them. Sometimes they will not tell me anything useful at all. I am hoping you will be my answer to that difficulty. One must have accurate information if 'justice is to be served.'" This last was said with a warm smile.

Diego smiled and raised his glass to salute the Magistrado's motto. He knew the truth of what Santiago was saying. Carlos Galindo had been utterly ruthless in his dealings with the people as the Magistrado, bending and twisting the law to further the plans of the Eagle. Many of the district's inhabitants had been hurt by this. They all continued to be somewhat fearful of any government official, even though Jorgé Santiago had never been anything other than fair in his dealings with them. Diego was intrigued by the offer. He could see this position which was being offered to him as another way he could help his people, the same people he had sworn to protect as El Zorro. He could help heal the land and its people from the ravages of the evil men who had tried to take over California and try to restore the faith in and loyalty to the government of His Majesty. And perhaps most of all, it would give his life purpose again and fill the void created by the idleness of Zorro. Zorro had been created to secure justice for the people and Santiago was offering Diego a chance to adopt the Magistrado's motto as his own. _Justice is served._ He took a deep breath. His decision was made.

Lifting his chin and looking directly into Santiago's dark eyes, Diego said , "I would be most honored to help in anyway I can. I will accept your offer, Your Excellency."

Santiago had watched the play of emotion across the young man's face. He knew this man. He knew that the concept of justice as an ideal was very attractive to Diego. Young intellectuals were often overtaken by the romance of such things and Diego was no exception. Santiago was pleased that he had Diego's measure.

"Excellent," said Santiago with a smile. "We can begin in the morning. I have a case pending between two rancheros living at the southern end of the district. Señores Morales and Piñeda. You know them, do you not?"

Diego nodded and said, "Yes, I have known them since I was a child."

"Splendid," said Santiago with enthusiasm. "That is exactly what I had hoped. It is a case of property boundaries. I will send you to speak with both parties and look over the situation yourself. Then you can report back to me with your findings. Come by my office at nine o'clock in the morning and I will issue the official documents naming you my assistant and give you the information you will need for your task. I am very glad you have decided to work with me. Together we will make this the best district in all California."

The Magistrado rose and Diego did likewise. Coming around the desk to face Diego, Santiago held up his glass and said, "To justice and truth. May we keep both in our hearts as a sacred trust."

Diego found his soul resonating with Santiago's words. "To justice and truth," he repeated. Then he touched his glass to that of Santiago's and both men drank.

They placed their glasses on the desk and Santiago put his hand on Diego's shoulder as he led him to the door. "In the morning then. At nine," he said.

"At nine, Your Excellency," said Diego bowing.

Santiago watched the young man go down the stairs and out into the plaza, making his way toward the tavern, his original destination. He smiled contentedly to himself because the first nail in the coffin of Diego de la Vega was firmly in place. When the last one was driven home, the de la Vega rancho would be his.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

That evening, Diego made his announcement at the supper table.

Casually dabbing at the corner of his mouth with his napkin, he placed it upon the table and said, "Father, I have been asked by Señor Santiago to enter into His Majesty's service as an assistant deputy to the Magistrado, . . . and I have accepted."

First Don Alejandro and then Bernardo, who, fortunately, was standing behind the elder de la Vega, looked at Diego in stunned silence. Finally, Don Alejandro cleared his throat and said, "This is rather sudden isn't it, Diego?"

"Yes, Father it is," said Diego, who was rather enjoying the sensation he had made.

"What has brought this about?" was his father's next question.

"Señor Santiago approached me today and said he needed someone the people trusted to help him with his work, and he chose to ask me."

In a statement expressing wonder, Don Alejandro said, "And you accepted."

"Sí. I accepted," Diego affirmed.

Don Alejandro just looked at Diego for a moment. Then he leaned back in his chair and said, "Humph. Well, I must admit to being completely surprised by this latest event, my son, though I must say that I am pleased to see you taking part in the civic matters of this pueblo at last. It will certainly be a much better use of your time than whiling it away in the tavern or buried in your books. When do you start?"

"In the morning, Father. I am to meet the Magistrado at nine o'clock." Diego was happy with his father's acceptance of his new job, grudging though it was. In this new position, Diego saw a way to gain the respect from his father which had been lacking since his return from Spain. It would be a way to transform himself into a useful member of society, someone whom his father would be proud to call his son. He would work very hard at his new position to make that happen.

Don Alejandro reached over the table and took Diego briefly by the arm as he said, "Well, I wish you all the best, my son." Diego was warmed by those words. His father continued, "The Magistrado seems to be a man of honor and someone willing to do what is right for the people. I have heard nothing but good reports about him since his arrival, and his dealings with me have been fair concerning the shipments of hides and tallow we have made." Don Alejandro cocked his head to one side as he said, "It would seem that if you had to chose another man to work for, you could not have chosen one better."

"Graciás, Father," said Diego, even though he felt the light sting of his father's last remark. But he was not going to let it dim his happiness.

After supper, Diego and Bernardo went upstairs to his room. Diego deliberately ignored Bernardo who was trying to make eye contact with him until the servant had become quite exasperated. Then laughing, Diego sat on the edge of his bed and said, "All right, what do you want to tell me?"

Bernardo gave Diego a stern look, berating him for ignoring him like that. Diego held up his hands to fend off the look and said, "Forgive me, my friend. Now what is it you wish to say?" Bernardo softened his look and then began to sign. Diego said, "Yes, I am sure this is what I want. Why do you ask?" Bernardo signed some more. "I am aware that having a job with the Magistrado will take up a lot of time." More signs. "But there is no need for Zorro now. And I can accomplish the same thing by working with the Magistrado. I can work for the good of the people in a new way." Bernardo put his hand to his forehead and walked back and forth a few times while he thought. Then he signed some more, making the sign of the "Z" and making motions as if he were pulling a sword and dueling with someone. "There have been many times when only the sword of Zorro stopped an oppressor," agreed Diego. "But with our new Magistrado and with Sergeant Garcia in charge of the cuartel, I do not think there will be a need for Zorro to draw his sword any longer." Bernardo still did not look convinced. "But you must admit, Bernardo, that from what better vantage point can I keep track of the goings on in the pueblo than in the Magistrado's own service? If there is any trouble, we shall be the first to know about it. Then the trouble can be taken care of before the need for Zorro's sword becomes necessary." Bernardo was forced to concede reluctantly that it was possible.

Feeling empathy for his servant, Diego said, "Bernardo, you are my closest friend. You have been as much a part of Zorro as I am. I understand that you want to keep him alive. But are you not willing for me to give this a chance, to see if it will work? Being Zorro is dangerous business for me, for you, and for my father. If I can accomplish the same things, with less risk for all our lives, is it not worth trying?"

Bernardo sighed as he came to understand what his master was seeing in this new position. And Diego was right as usual. The goal was to be the people's protectors and see that justice was administered fairly. And he loved his master, there was no question about that. How many times had he waited in the cavern or in Diego's room worrying about his young friend? Wondering if he would come home alive after each adventure? His own life did not matter as long as Diego was safe and Don Alejandro, also. So indeed, if Diego could accomplish the same things without the daily risk of dying on the point of a sword or having a rope around his neck, then perhaps he should do so. Who was he to tell his master what he should do? Slowly he nodded to show that he understood.

Diego had watched his servant closely as Bernardo thought through what had been said. He could have just ordered Bernardo to accept what he had been told and to stop trying to change Diego's mind, but you did not do that to a friend. He was glad Bernardo had finally understood what had moved Diego to take this position with the Magistrado and why Zorro might never have reason to ride again. He needed Bernardo's support and friendship, and he knew that it was out of Bernardo's deep sense of loyalty he had questioned Diego's decision, trying to make sure that Diego was not doing something foolish in leaving Zorro behind.

Diego stood and put his hand on Bernardo's shoulder and the servant looked up at him. "We will not be turning Tornado out to pasture just yet, Bernardo. Nor will we pack Zorro's costume away in a trunk. We will keep them handy just in case. But after a time, I think you and I will both agree these things will no longer be necessary. I will send Tornado back up into the hills with the old sheepherder and a few choice mares." Bernardo smiled. "He will have sons and grandsons. Just as someday my father will, eh?" Bernardo joined Diego in a wide grin and nodded his head. He knew how much Don Alejandro wanted grandchildren and he knew that someday Diego wanted to be able to present him with some. "Come then," said Diego. "We will go and see to Tornado and then it's off to bed. I have an early appointment tomorrow."


	14. B1 Ch13: Fanning Embers of Conspiracy

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 13 – _Fanning the Embers of Conspiracy_**

Diego's knowledge of the families in the area helped to untangle many of the facts in the cases brought before the Magistrado. Everyone trusted Diego, which helped him to become a sort of mediator between the parties, and often he was able to give the participants just the nudge they needed to settle their problems between themselves. The Magistrado seemed pleased with Diego's progress and told him so frequently. Diego found the work to be satisfying and he also found working with the Magistrado to be quite enjoyable. The Magistrado was fair and impartial in his dealings with the people. His knowledge of the law was impressive and he taught Diego much. Diego was intrigued by the law and its application and began to think perhaps he might want to make it his career. He and Santiago formed a friendship and the two of them would often have a ruthless game of chess or a game of cards at the tavern in the evenings. However, the familiarity did not extend into all facets of their relationship. Santiago always let it be known that he was the Magistrado and Diego was under his direction. Diego understood and respected that distinction.

The only thing Diego did not like about his position was that he had been prevented by the Magistrado from discussing any of the cases with his father, or anyone else for that matter. Santiago pointed out, and rightly so, that these were cases which involved the office of the Magistrado of His Majesty's government, and as an official of that government, Diego was bound by the rules of that office. Santiago did not have a problem with Bernardo accompanying Diego, since he was deaf and could not hear what was being said, but Diego was to take no one else with him. Don Alejandro was keen to hear the details of Diego's work, but when Diego explained the rules to him, he was somewhat mollified. He even agreed by saying, "It is a good rule, for I would not want my business spread around for everyone to hear and gossip about." Diego did discuss certain aspects of law with his father, going over the new things he was learning from the Magistrado, and Don Alejandro was impressed with his son's ability. Don Alejandro did not care much for lawyers as a general rule, but he would make an exception if Diego should choose that as a career. At least being a lawyer was a productive profession. Better than writing poetry all day and producing nothing but useless tunes on his guitar.

As time went on, the Magistrado gave Diego more important cases to work with. He began sending him to the far reaches of the district to handle the signing and notarizing of important documents or to gather information and report back to the Magistrado with his findings. This required Diego to spend more and more time away from Los Angeles. Don Alejandro often watched his son ride away, wondering just what Diego's missions were all about. As long as Diego had handled cases in and around Los Angeles, Don Alejandro had been able to make discreet inquiries among his friends and usually found out what case Diego had been involved with. While Diego might be under orders not to reveal his cases, the participants were under no such restrictions and they often talked freely among themselves. It was not just curiosity, Don Alejandro told himself. He just wanted to keep abreast of everything that Diego was doing, for his son's own protection. After all, Diego was still a somewhat wide-eyed youth, full of ideals, and not experienced in the ways of the world. So far, however, Don Alejandro had found nothing to raise any questions in his mind concerning Diego's work. He was quite impressed with the Magistrado who had taken Diego under his wing. He just didn't like being excluded from his son's life now anymore than he had liked it before when Diego would come and go on a whim late at night, or decided to spend a few days and nights in the pueblo just because he was bored at the hacienda. He also found it strange that Diego sometimes left Bernardo at home while he was away for more than a couple of days.

The reason for leaving Bernardo behind when Diego went on his missions for the Magistrado was to care for Tornado, since there was no one else who could do it. They had tried leaving several days worth of food for the stallion at a time, but found that the silly glutton would eat most of it in the first day or so, leaving himself nothing to eat for later. It seemed to be Tornado's one failing. So Bernardo had to stay behind to feed Tornado and give him the exercise he needed to keep in shape. Bernardo did not like being away from his master, but bowed to the necessity of caring for Tornado.

Diego also found himself often neglecting his fencing exercises as he was spending a great deal of time in the pueblo with the Magistrado or traveling so much that he had no opportunity to find time to practice. As Diego, he still could not carry a sword along with him without raising eyebrows and so he could not practice while away.

In the darkness of the secret room, Zorro's costume began to gather dust.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Summer was passing and the days were growing shorter. Santiago found himself in what any other man would have called a satisfying job. He was well respected by those in the pueblo, and at times he would even hear his motto called to him as he rode by. "Justice is served!" they would cry out. He would tip his hat to them and they would smile and wave back. The Governor was quite pleased with his progress and sent him letters indicating that his name had been mentioned prominently in the latest communications to His Majesty in Spain. Yes, things were going well. Santiago's recruitment of Diego de la Vega had also been quite successful. The young don had performed very well in his duties, the only surprise in the whole affair. Santiago thought he could see some of himself at that age in the younger man. Diego was a quick study and able to think for himself, often suggesting solutions which met with everyone's approval. The main difference between them was that Diego was soft and gullible, readily going where Santiago told him and doing everything asked of him. Santiago was careful not to ask him to do anything which was even the least bit questionable, thus reinforcing Diego's confidence in the Magistrado. When the time came, Santiago was sure Diego would carry out the Magistrado's orders even, if they seemed strange, because of the complete faith the young don would have in him. This faith would allow Santiago to manipulate Diego, setting him up for the charges of treason which would be leveled against him.

Santiago made sure Diego had met Lozano, and while de la Vega did not become friends with the man, he became accustomed to seeing him in the Magistrado's office and on occasion, he himself, prepared some of Lozano's permits. This bit of camouflage was working perfectly. Whenever Santiago and Lozano needed to communicate, they could do so in broad daylight as long as Lozano needed a permit or two for his business. Thus, Diego never had reason to suspect anything. The young man bought goods from Lozano's store from time to time and always found everything in order. The items mentioned in the permits were always present in the store. If he had to communicate with Lozano after hours, Santiago always made sure Diego had gone home or was away on an assignment before allowing Lozano to come to up to his office.

The only dark spot in his days came when he must return home in the evenings. Gracilia's condition was steadily growing worse. She spent most of her days in her bed, moaning under her breath when the pain became more than she could bear. The laudanum was losing its ability to mask her pain and she suffered greatly. Doctor Avila was constantly in attendance, doing the best that he could, but this illness was beyond his experience. Santiago felt as though his home had become a place where death hovered on silent black wings, but was yet constrained from claiming Gracilia's soul. For it seemed that, despite her desperate condition, on some level deep within, her will to live on was strong. Santiago spent only as much time with her as would appease Doctor Avila's sense of propriety. Lozano reported to him that the pueblo admired Santiago greatly for the loving care he gave to his wife who was so very ill and that they held great sympathy for him. They also admired him for the way he bravely carried out the duties of his office in the face of his personal tragedy.

He spent more evenings at the tavern than he spent at his home. He chafed that he could not entertain guests at his own home. The tavern was just not the place to socialize with the upper class on more than a superficial level and he was tired of it, but where else could he go? He attended fiestas and dinner parties at the homes of the dons from time to time, but he was tired of being a guest. He wanted to play the part of the host, to exhibit the power of his position in the community. To have the powerful come to him as guests in his home. But that was not possible while Gracilia lived. She needed the peace and quiet that a home filled with silence could give her. Santiago felt that Gracilia was becoming a millstone around his neck, dragging him down with her.

If only she would have the good sense to die . . . .

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

By the time of the fall equinox, Santiago knew that all was ready. He was sure Diego did not suspect a thing. The young man's enthusiasm for his work had never flagged. He seemed truly happy working for the Magistrado who had done everything in his power to continue to appear as an honest and upright government official. Santiago even entertained the thought that had he wanted to remain just a government official, he could not have asked for a more devoted assistant. Diego really seemed to believe in the power of true justice under the law. All the better for his plan, thought Santiago. He, himself, would now set that plan into motion.

One evening, he asked Diego to go with him to the tavern for some wine. It was a quiet night in the pueblo. Lozano was already there having dinner. Tío was idly polishing some wine glasses behind his counter. There were a few vaqueros drinking wine at another table. One of them was quietly strumming a guitar.

After a few pleasantries and some small talk about Don Alejandro's rancho, Santiago leaned back in his chair pointing at the wanted poster of Zorro on the wall and said, "Tell me, Diego. Why do you think El Zorro seems to have just disappeared off of the face of the earth? Where do you think he has gone?"

Diego's heart skipped a beat as it always did whenever he was questioned directly about Zorro, but he did not let anything reach his face. He noticed that at the mention of Zorro's name, the other men looked their way. He smiled as he said, "I am sure he is still about, Your Excellency. And who can say why he appears or he does not? Perhaps at the moment he sees no need to make an appearance."

"That is too bad," said Santiago. "He is still considered an outlaw by the government and should be captured and brought to trial. No one has ever discovered his identity?"

"Not to my knowledge, Magistrado. However, if you check the records, I believe you will find that several men have been accused of being El Zorro. Even I was once accused of being this bandit by one of our former commandantés." Diego looked over his glass at Santiago.

"You, Diego?" laughed Santiago. Seeing the chagrin on Diego's face, he stopped. "Forgive, me. It's just that . . .," he trailed off, but he was still smiling. Behind Diego's back some of the other men in the tavern smiled too.

Diego tried to shrug it off, playing the part of the slightly insulted scholar, and said, "There is no need to continue, Your Excellency. There is nothing you can say that has not been said before. I know who I am. And I am still a man even though I do not wield a sword."

"Agreed," said Santiago, sobering. "We will drop that part of the discussion. Back to Zorro then. Many people saw Zorro as a savior when he fought against His Majesty's officials. Do you see Zorro as a savior, Diego?

Diego paused as he considered just how to answer the Magistrado's question. "I see Zorro as a man who fought tyranny in the only way open to him, Your Excellency," he said carefully. "The people were oppressed, without hope of rescue when he appeared out of nowhere. When everyone else was impotent, Zorro struck a blow for liberty. With his help, we were able to rid ourselves of a commandanté whose tyranny was boundless. If this makes him a savior, then so he is."

"Let me see if I understand you," said Santiago. "You are saying that you condone the actions of a man who must work outside of the law to achieve his ends?"

Diego found himself in a bit of a dilemma. Did he disparage Zorro for working outside the law or did he say that he approved? It was a pretty problem considering he would be talking about himself. Finally he said, "I would prefer that the people be championed by men who can use the law to protect them. Men such as yourself, Your Excellency." Santiago nodded to acknowledge the complement. Diego continued, "But when that is not possible, when those who are given the responsibility of rule over us abuse their power, use the threat of the military against us, use the fact that we are so isolated from Spain so there is nowhere to turn for help, then that is when I can condone the actions of a man like Zorro."

"I see," said Santiago, who sipped his wine as he thought. After a pause, he said "I seem to remember hearing that the Eagle was a guest in your hacienda for quite some time."

"Yes, he was there . . . without invitation. It was more of a confiscation," said Diego. "But what has this to do with our discussion of Zorro?"

"Zorro appeared in your home on more than one occasion while the Eagle was there, did he not?"

Diego was becoming uncomfortable with this line of questioning. But he had to answer. "Sí."

"Did Zorro ever contact you? Enlist your aid in his efforts?"

"No, Your Excellency. He did not," said Diego.

"Why do you suppose this was, Diego? You and he certainly must have had the same goal: to get rid of the Eagle."

Diego nodded his agreement.

"Well then, my young friend, consider this," said Santiago. "Could it be that he was secretly meeting with the Eagle to aid him in his plots?

"Zorro? I would not believe such an accusation," said Diego, as his pulse quickened. "How do you explain his helping my father to defeat the Eagle?" he asked.

Santiago leaned forward as he said, "I think Zorro desires to take the Eagle's place and realizing this, he began working to defeat the man so that he might himself become the usurper. So that he may try at some future time to take over California for his own purposes. He may be gathering an army in the hills even as we speak."

Diego was astonished. Zorro had been accused of many things, but never treason. He looked around and noticed the man strumming the guitar had stopped. Everyone, including Señor Lozano was listening. Could they believe such a thing? Surely not. "Your Excellency, whatever and whoever Zorro may be, I do not believe he would do such a thing," he said earnestly. Some of the vaqueros nodded their heads emphatically, but there were some who did not.

Santiago pressed on. "How do you know, Diego? How can you be sure what the motives are of a man who never shows his face openly, who comes and goes on the shadows of the night, who eludes capture at every turn? As an officer of the law, I must therefore assume that he is every bit as dangerous as the Eagle and must see him brought before the bar of justice. You agree, do you not?" Santiago watched Diego closely.

Diego found that his blood was up. He knew intimately what kind of man Zorro was after all. His own honor was bound with that of Zorro's. He was frustrated that he could not defend Zorro without giving himself away. Diego clenched his jaw. "I will only agree up to a certain point, Your Excellency," he said. "All those accused of a crime should have their day in court to have their guilt proven . . . ," and here he looked directly into Santiago's eyes, "or to have their innocence established."

Santiago raised an eyebrow as he said, "So. If it was in your power to have Zorro arrested, what would you do?" Santiago's eyes then narrowed after he asked this question. He knew Diego had been deftly maneuvered to set up what was to come. He was not disappointed.

"Let us say I sincerely hope that Zorro sees no need to ever appear again in our pueblo, knowing that his work is done," said Diego leaning forward in all earnestness. His voice became intense. "You, Señor, were not here during the turmoil of the past year or so when Zorro found it necessary to come to the defense of the people. His desires for the people's welfare were always honorable even though he remained outside the law. I would find myself in a difficult position were I to be the one to have Zorro arrested."

"So you would prefer to see him never captured?" asked Santiago.

"Sí, that is so, Your Excellency," said Diego levelly. He saw that all the other men in the tavern, except Lozano, nodded at his words. They had been reminded anew how Zorro had helped them all. Diego saw that Santiago was also watching the vaqueros.

After a brief moment of silence, Santiago drank the last of his wine and then pulled out his watch. "Look at the time," he said. "It is growing late. This has been a most fascinating discussion, Diego. Your friend Zorro is a most interesting topic. I still believe him to be a dangerous man, and nothing will interfere with my duties as the Magistrado of this pueblo should the opportunity present itself to arrest Zorro and bring him to trial. Zorro and anyone who is in league with him. You understand that, do you not?" he said looking at Diego. Looking at the others in the tavern, he said, "All of you. Understand?" Santiago smiled as the vaqueros nodded or answered they understood. "Good. Well then, I will bid you good night, Diego. I have some reading I wish to do. Remember to be at my office at nine o'clock tomorrow morning to go over the documents which will be going to Monterey."

Diego acknowledged the time of the meeting and Santiago left. The next week went by without further mention of Zorro. But Diego did notice that the Magistrado had pulled out the record books of the cuartel and had them sitting on his credenza. He surmised that Santiago was doing what many had done before him. He was looking for clues to Zorro's identity. Diego was glad the Magistrado found plenty of work for him to do outside the pueblo, so he would not have to try to answer any more of Santiago's questions about Zorro. He hoped that with the seeming total disappearance of the masked rider, the Magistrado would set aside his investigation for more immediate matters.

A few days later, Diego and Bernardo made a trip down to the docks at San Pedro to gather the facts in a disagreement between two fishermen over the ownership of a boat. San Pedro was not much of a village, but it did have an establishment which served wine and food. After Diego had taken the men's statements, he and Bernardo stopped in to refresh themselves before taking the long ride back to Los Angeles. There were several tables set out under a large tree and some men were already seated there when Diego arrived. Diego sat at one of the tables and indicated it would be all right for Bernardo to sit with him. Bernardo smiled and looked around happily as they waited for their wine. After the tavern's bar maid served them, they began to listen to the conversation of the other men. At first, it was just a discussion of the usual subjects in a small fishing village. The weather. The best location of the day for catching fish. And, of course, the weather. Then the name of Zorro came floating out over their conversation and both Diego and Bernardo exchanged glances. They paid more attention.

One of the men was saying, "Yes, I heard it from my cousin's husband. They are saying that Zorro is waiting somewhere in the hills with an army, getting ready to take over all California for himself."

"I don't believe it," said another, younger man. "My father was among those taken for not being able to pay his taxes to that false tax collector of the Eagle's. He was going to be taken to the mines as a slave with the others and Zorro came and set them all free. Zorro would never try to take over California like you say."

"My cousin's husband said he heard it from the Magistrado's own lips. The Magistrado believes Zorro wants to take over all California, to rule over us." While the other men discussed this, the man turned and motioned to the bar maid again. "Lolita. Bring more wine, por favor."

"Sí," the dark haired woman acknowledged.

Diego wanted to get up and defend Zorro, but Bernardo put out a hand to restrain him. Diego locked eyes with his servant for a moment and then tossed a coin on the table and motioned for Bernardo to follow him. They mounted and rode out of town before speaking.

"Why did you stop me?" said Diego. "You know the man's words are false." Bernardo signed. "You could see that I was angry and might have said too much?" Diego paused. "You are probably right. I was angry." Diego shook his head in dismay. "I suppose it was those vaqueros I told you about who were in the tavern a week or so ago. They overheard the Magistrado's statement concerning his beliefs about Zorro and now they have spread the story far and wide, embellishing the tale as it goes. I do not know what I should do."

Bernardo was at a loss also. Through a series of signs he asked, "If Zorro does not defend himself, how can he be defended?"

Diego shrugged slightly as he said, "I do not know. There has been no need for Zorro to ride for quite some time. If he never appears again, then surely this will all blow away on the winds. Time is his ally. I do not think it is wise for Zorro to be seen when there is no reason for it. Zorro is in a unique position in that he cannot make his case for himself and those, such as myself, who might try to defend him could be caught up in accusations of conspiracy. You know how fear can make people react." Bernardo nodded. Diego sighed and said, "I suppose all we can do is wait and just let time take care of it." Bernardo reluctantly agreed.

"But it is hard, Bernardo, it is hard."


	15. B1 Ch14: Bernardo's Peril

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 14 – _Bernardo's Peril_**

San Pedro was not the only place Diego heard the rumors about Zorro. It seemed everywhere he went, Zorro was suddenly the main topic of discussion. He was amazed at how the statements of the Magistrado could have taken wings as they had. People tried to engage him in their speculations about Zorro's whereabouts and his activities, but he did his best to change the topic. When he was forced to say anything at all concerning Zorro, he was as vague as he could manage without offending those he was with. He found it unsettling as some began to look at him strangely when he would not speak of Zorro. It began to seem that the rumors were not going to die away with time. It seemed someone always brought the subject up again just when everyone had let it go.

Diego was right, but he did not know it. Lozano, at the orders of Santiago, made sure the rumors concerning Zorro did not die down. He and some of his men kept the rumors alive. Everywhere they traveled, they spoke of how Zorro was remaining hidden while he plotted the overthrow of the government. The people were growing fearful and that fear fed upon itself. The man whom they had praised as a hero was now an object of fear for them. Diego and Bernardo found themselves at a complete loss as to what to do. There was no enemy who could be fought with a sword. Fear was a powerful, but completely intangible enemy. And Zorro could not just ride through the pueblos proclaiming his innocence. There might be some who would believe him, but most would not and they would soon convince the others they were mistaken. All the two of them could do was try and wait out the storm.

Of course, Santiago did not know the total effect his rumor mill was having on Diego. His goal was to keep Zorro's name in the minds of the people so that when the trap was sprung on the younger de la Vega, the two of them would be inexorably linked. Santiago had never met Zorro and it would suit him if the real Zorro never made an appearance. It was merely his name and the fear he could generate around it which Santiago needed. At the appropriate time, he would have Zorro appear to certain people in order to add to the rumors. His Zorro. A Zorro whom he had created and could control. Then he would proceed to the next step in his plans. To make sure Diego was placed in several compromising situations, innocent on their face perhaps, but fully integrated into his plans. Each situation would be more incriminating than the last, culminating with his arrest on charges of treason.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

There was one small incident which changed Santiago's plans in what was, to him, a minor degree. Bernardo, Diego's servant, had come into Lozano's shop to browse one morning. Santiago was there also. He was pretending to examine some finely made white shirts while he waited for Bernardo to leave. He had something he wished to discuss with Lozano and he would not do it while the servant was there. Santiago was a careful man, even with a deaf man in the room. While Bernardo was occupied with examining some belts and other tooled leather items, a thin man who walked with a limp came into the shop from the back door and stood looking around. He spotted Lozano and headed in his direction. Santiago and Lozano realized simultaneously just who they were seeing. They exchanged surprised looks. Tomaso was not supposed to be in Los Angeles. Quickly, Santiago approached both men.

"Why are you here?" he hissed in a low voice, looking at Tomaso.

"I thought I was to meet you here, Señor" said Tomaso in a normal voice. Bernardo glanced at the men talking together, but he did not pay much attention to them, except for noting the fact that Tomaso had a distinctive limp and Santiago was signaling Tomaso to speak in lower tones. Bernardo was more interested in finding a gift for Don Alejandro's birthday which was a few days away.

Santiago looked at Bernardo and seeing that he was still occupied with his inspection of the leather goods, said in a very low tone, "You were mistaken. You are supposed to be in Santa Barbara. Lozano, hide this man until I can think of what to do. I do not like surprises." Here he gripped the hilt of his sword menacingly. "Do not ever let me catch you making such a mistake again."

"Sí, Señor Magistrado," said Lozano swallowing. Taking Tomaso by the arm, he ushered the man out of the back of the shop. He was back in a few moments. By this time, Bernardo had made his selection and was ready to pay for the ornately stitched money pouch which he thought would make a fine gift for Don Alejandro. Santiago quickly returned to his inspection of the shirts, pretending to be totally disinterested in Bernardo. Bernardo took his purchase and bowed politely to the Magistrado as he went happily out the door. Santiago watched the servant through narrowed eyes as he mounted his horse and rode away.

Turning to Lozano, he said. "There goes a loose end. We will have to take care of the servant as well. He has seen the three of us together when he should not have. When we spring the trap on young de la Vega, we will ensnare the servant also. It should be easy to have him hanged along side his master as an accomplice. I will decide what is to be done and inform you later. Now be sure and keep Tomaso out of sight. Come to my office this evening after dark and we will talk. Just be sure no one sees you."

Santiago spent the afternoon thinking about how Tomaso's mistake would affect their plans. Then he had an idea. He turned it over in his mind and decided the man's presence could indeed be turned into a positive thing after all. Diego was still out of town on an assignment. What better way to begin to associate Tomaso, the Eagle's man, with Diego than to have Tomaso come into town looking for him? That evening, Santiago laid out the strategy for Lozano.

The next morning, Tomaso rode into the pueblo as though he was coming in on the road from Santa Barbara. When he entered the tavern, he was greeted by Sergeant Garcia and Tío. He told them he was looking for Diego de la Vega in order to deliver a message. The Sergeant was very helpful and gave Tomaso detailed directions to the de la Vega hacienda. It was not until the man had left that he remembered Diego was not there. He shrugged and said the man would find that out soon enough when he arrived at the hacienda, and went back to his favorite pastime of trying to wheedle just a bit more wine out of Tío.

Tío just polished a wine glass quietly and let Garcia talk as long as he liked.

Tomaso pulled up at the hacienda and tied his horse to the rail. He went to the gate and peered in, nervously rubbing his hands against the legs of his trousers. Locating the door to the house, he entered the patio and crossed it, looking around to see if anyone was about. He knocked on the door and swallowed hard as he tried to calm himself. He was not happy to be a part of Santiago's plans and he was already nervous at having made a mistake in coming to Los Angeles. He wanted to do what he had to and then get back to Santa Barbara. One of the servants opened the door and he asked to see Diego de la Vega. Don Alejandro heard the request as he was in the sala working on his books at the time and he came to the door.

"What may I do for you, Señor?" asked Don Alejandro.

"I have a message for Diego de la Vega," said Tomaso, taking off his hat and patting the pocket in his jacket.

"He is not here, Señor," said Don Alejandro. "You may give me the message and I will see that he receives it upon his return."

Tomaso shook his head no. "I can only give the message to Don Diego de la Vega. Can you tell me when he will be returning?" He held his hat by the brim and ran it around and around in his hands nervously.

"No, I cannot," said Don Alejandro, "for I do not know. He does not confide such things in me." This came out rather more brusquely than Don Alejandro intended, but he was letting some of his own frustrations come out. He was tired of not knowing what his son was doing and where he was going.

Tomaso swallowed nervously and said, "Then I will beg your pardon for disturbing you, Señor," as he bowed and turned to leave, replacing his hat as he walked away.

Don Alejandro watched him go, wondering just what it was all about. It was probably just a part of the strange things which sometimes happened to Diego since his return from Spain. He had never seen this man before, but he knew he would remember him by the man's curious limp and his nervous manner. Shaking his head, he closed the door and went back into the sala to finish his book work.

Santiago was pleased by the report made by Lozano. It was now established that Tomaso had been in the pueblo asking for Diego de la Vega. Even his own father could testify to that should the need arise. And when it was revealed that Tomaso was a former agent of the Eagle, another nail would be added to the coffin of young de la Vega. Santiago then had Lozano send Tomaso on to Santa Barbara to wait for further instructions.


	16. B1 Ch15: Voices

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 15 - _Voices_**

Santiago judged that it was now time to let everyone catch a glimpse of Zorro. He wanted to talk to Uresti himself, so there would be no misunderstandings between them. Uresti was a rough man, but he was smart enough to know Santiago held his chain tightly. Besides, he had been assured of being rewarded by Santiago if he did exactly what he was asked to do and this also kept him pacified. However, he was not one to be taken lightly. He was a dangerous man. Santiago sent word by Lozano that Uresti should come to Los Angeles. He was to come in the guise of a hired man to help Lozano to drive and unload the next cartload of goods coming from Santa Barbara.

One week later, Lozano came to Los Angeles with Uresti. Uresti was a tall, dark man with coal black hair and a thin mustache. His features were heavy and rugged. He wore not only a sword, but carried a pistol and a long knife tucked into his banda. His eyes were half-lidded, giving him a sleepy appearance until one got close, then you knew that he was watching your every move. After unloading the wagon, Lozano took Uresti to Aredo's house and familiarized him with the costume he would be wearing and showed him the black horse. They would wait until after dark before going to Santiago's house.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Señora Gracilia woke from her fitful sleep with a start. It was dark in her room, with only a small candle in one corner to give a little light. She did not know what time it was, but the sun must have been down for quite a while for it to be so dark. She heard the noise again. The one which had awakened her. It was someone knocking at the front door. The door to her room was open and she could hear the knocking. "Pippa?" she murmured softly.

"Sí, Señora?" came the response from beside her bed. Seeing her mistress looking at the door, Pippa said soothingly, "Do not worry, Señora. Señor Santiago himself is answering the knock. He will take care of it. Do you wish anything?"

There were so many things Gracilia wished for, but none of them were within her reach, so she said, "Nothing, Pippa. Nothing."

Pippa smoothed the covers on Gracilia's bed and went back to her chair to sit quietly, picking up her needlework to begin where she had left off. The light of the small candle made working with the needle difficult, but Pippa had many hours to fill and she found solace in her needlework. She had sold some of her pieces in the marketplace and had a few pesos saved up. She thought about her family in Mexico and how she would like to see them once again. It had been so long. Her husband had taken her with him to Monterey several years ago, seeking to make a better life for them both, but he had died when they were attacked by bandits. Pippa had been grateful to find work as a servant in the household of the Governor. Then, she was sent as a gift to Señora Gracilia when the señora had married, and had been with her from then until now. She pitied the poor young woman and did the best she could for her. She did not care for Señor Santiago and his cool treatment of his wife. Pippa knew what most did not, about how little Señor Santiago really cared for his wife. However, she kept all of this to herself. She had only one job, and that was to take care of Señora Gracilia, and she would do just that and no more.

Gracilia lay on her bed, unable to return to sleep. She could hear her husband talking to someone. Who was it? Yes, it was Sergeant Garcia. She recognized his voice as he came to the house from time to time to talk with the Magistrado. Tonight, as on some infrequent nights, her hearing seemed sharper than usual. Sometimes she could hear the softest cooing of a mourning dove in the early dawn, a sound which Pippa could not hear without opening the windows. Tonight was such a night. She heard her husband speaking clearly from the next room, though he spoke in low tones.

"A brawl, did you say, Sergeant?"

"Sí, Magistrado," said Garcia. "Between several vaqueros. They were in the tavern and began fighting among themselves over a señorita. She was not hurt, but I'm afraid the tavern is in bad shape."

Santiago knew Lozano was to arrive shortly with Uresti, but he also knew that it would probably take longer to explain to the Sergeant what he wanted done than to go and direct things himself. He would handle things quickly and return. He attached his sword to his belt and reached for his hat. "Come, Sergeant. We will go and sort things out right away," he said.

Gracilia heard the door open and shut and the night became quiet once again. She could hear the little movements Pippa was making as she stitched away at her design. She had enjoyed needlework herself as she grew up. But now, her hands would not let her hold the needle, for they trembled at the slightest excuse. Sighing, she wished she could go back to sleep, but did not feel sleepy. For the moment, the laudanum was keeping the pain at bay, but she was so weak that she could only lay still on her bed. "Pippa?" she said after a long while.

"Sí, Señora?" was Pippa's instant response.

"Pippa, perhaps if I had a glass of warm milk I might go back to sleep," she said almost in a whisper.

Pippa put down her needlework and said, "I will go and heat some for you, Señora. I won't be long."

"Graciás," said Gracilia softly. She listened as Pippa padded her way out of the room in her soft shoes and went down the hall to the kitchen.

Left alone in the dimly lit room, Gracilia was startled again by another knock at the front door. This time it was the manservant, Roberto, who answered the door.

"Yes? Who is it?" she heard him ask.

"Claudio Lozano and Juan Uresti to see the Magistrado," came the reply.

"The Magistrado has stepped out for the moment," said the manservant.

Lozano said, "May we wait here for him? We have an appointment."

The manservant said, "Sí. Please have a seat by the fire. I will bring you some wine if you wish."

A deeper voice said, "Sí, bring us some wine." but Lozano's voice said, "No. We will just wait for the Magistrado. Graciás."

Gracilia could hear the manservant leaving the room. After he was gone, she heard the two men speaking to each other.

"Why did you not let him bring us some wine?" said the deeper voice, which she guessed must be the one called Uresti.

"The Magistrado might not like it," said Lozano. "We will wait to see what he wants us to have or not have."

"You are a timid one, Lozano," said Uresti, laughing caustically.

"And you are too bold, Uresti," said Lozano firmly. "Remember, you are here to do the Magistrado's bidding, not mine."

"And what is it he wants me to do? Dress up as a masked bandit and scare some peons into thinking I am the evil Zorro?" Uresti laughed derisively this time. "I was involved in much more dangerous plots than this for the Eagle. Men died when the eagle's feather was shown."

In the darkened room, Gracilia was alarmed. What was she hearing?

"Shhhh . . .," said Lozano. "Do not speak of such things now."

"Why not?" said Uresti. "And who is this Diego de la Vega that we should convince everyone that he is a traitor? I know nothing of him."

"Diego?" wondered Gracilia to herself. "Why do they mention Diego?" She continued to listen.

"You do not have to, Uresti. You only have to do what the Magistrado tells you to do."

"It will mean de la Vega's death, will it not? Even if he is as innocent as a babe, once the Magistrado convicts him of treason, they will hang him. Just what does the Magistrado gain by all this, eh? And what will be our share?"

"He let you live didn't he?" said Lozano. "That is more than you deserve. You should have been hung for being one of Varga's men."

Uresti laughed. "As you should have been, my friend, just as you should have been."

"Quiet!" hissed Lozano. "I hear someone coming."

Just then, Gracilia heard the door open.

"Your Excellency," said Lozano.

Santiago was chagrined that the two men had come while he was out and had entered his house. He looked at his wife's room and remembered the door was open. Putting his finger to his lips, he walked softly over to the door.

Gracilia heard him approaching and closed her eyes, trying to compose herself. She would let him think she was asleep, although she was sure he could hear her heart beating beneath her blankets as he bent over her.

Santiago sighed to himself in relief. Luckily for the two men waiting by the fireplace, Gracilia was still in her drug induced sleep. If she had been awake . . .

Gracilia kept her eyes closed and she heard her husband walk back to the men. In a voice that sent chills through her, she heard him say, "You two will follow me upstairs to my office. Never again will you set foot in this house without me. If you have spoken anything which you should not and if you have been overheard by anyone in this household, you will answer to me with your life. Do you understand me?"

"Sí, Magistrado. Sí," was the response from both men. Even Uresti sounded solemn.

"Then come."

Gracilia heard them leaving. What was it all about, she wondered. Who was this Uresti and why was he going to dress up like Zorro? And why did they talk of Diego as a traitor? He was certainly no such thing. Why was her husband mixed up with men such as these? Men like that Uresti. He had admitted he was a conspirator with the Eagle and implied that Lozano was one also. And these two men were taking orders from Jorgé? Gracilia was frightened. Frightened because she did not know what was going on and frightened because of what little she did know and what it implied about her husband. The more she thought about it, the more her fears grew. She really did not know this man who was her husband, not down deep where it mattered. This talk of killing and of naming Diego a traitor? Was her husband really capable of that? Agitation and stress at last overwhelmed her frail strength, and the pain of her illness rose anew. "Pippa!" she gasped. "Pippa!"

Pippa heard Señora Gracilia from the hallway and hurried in with the glass of warm milk on a tray. Placing the milk hurriedly on the table, she tried to comfort the young woman who lay writhing on her bed. She could see that Gracilia was trying to speak, but the words would not come. Pippa knew what the doctor would do if he were here. She took the bottle of laudanum from the bedside table and poured a double measure of the medicine into the glass of warm milk. Helping Gracilia to sit up, she made her drink all of it. Then she held the young woman and stroked her hair, rocking her in her arms as she waited for the medicine to take effect. It took almost a quarter of an hour, but finally the moaning and the tremors stopped and Gracilia slept at last. Pippa slipped off of the bed and arranged Gracilia's blankets around her. Standing in the dim light of the candle, Pippa looked down upon her mistress and wondered how much longer the young woman could live in this condition. She thought about going to get the doctor, but what could he do that she had not done? No, she would just go back to her needlework and stay by her mistress' side. That was all anyone could do.

Upstairs, in the Magistrado's office, Santiago was using his anger to his advantage. He was sure the two men before him would stop at nothing to follow his instructions to the letter now. He did not allow himself to display his anger grossly, but his hard and cold demeanor was enough to daunt both men, even Uresti. They spent the next few hours going over where Uresti would stay in the hills, when and where he would show himself as Zorro, and how they would communicate when that was necessary. Uresti was given to understand what script he would follow to increase the rumors that he was the masked rider gathering his army in the hills. And he was told the target of the whole plan was Diego de la Vega and they were going to set him up to be convicted on charges of treason.

Uresti was still bold enough to ask the question he had posed to Lozano. "De la Vega. Why de la Vega, Magistrado? Why is he so important?"

"Just know that he is, Uresti," said Santiago. "You will not know my whole plan. Accept that. You just do what I tell you and you will continue to be free. And remember, when my plans succeed, you will be well rewarded. You may return then to your señorita a wealthy man, or perhaps you may find that remaining in my service is a greater reward. Lozano has chosen this path. He will not regret it."

Lozano looked at Santiago and then at Uresti as he smiled. Uresti, narrowed his eyes as he considered the offer. He decided he would watch the way Santiago's plans unfolded. Santiago was a powerful man now and from what Uresti could tell, he would be even more powerful in the future. He was a force to be reckoned with and those who followed him would accrue power to themselves. And Uresti loved power almost as much as he loved money and his señorita. He had lost his influence when the Eagle had lost his life and he wanted to get it back. If the Magistrado succeeded, he just might join Lozano as a permanent member of Santiago's entourage. He might even take Lozano's place. With that thought, Uresti returned Lozano's smile. Lozano's smile faded as he saw the look in Uresti's eyes.

"Your offer interests me greatly, Magistrado," said Uresti. "I will carry out my orders. You will have your conviction of this de la Vega just as you wish."

"Good," said Santiago. "Do you have any further questions? No? Then you will both leave and take up your positions. Tomorrow, El Zorro returns to Los Angeles."


	17. B1 Ch16: Zorro!

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 16 – _Zorro!_**

In the soft light of morning, the peons and merchants were setting out their wares, getting ready for the day's business, when a black whirlwind rode through the plaza, scattering people and things in his wake. He rode a coal black horse, and his cape flew on the air behind him like the wings of a great raven. The horse and rider knocked over a cart full of pottery, the crashing sound echoing throughout the plaza. They plowed through a display of vegetables. Gathering himself, the black horse leapt over a table displaying jewelry and toilette items, his back leg striking it and causing the wares to cascade over the ground. Following close behind was the lancer patrol led by Sergeant Garcia. They were in pursuit of the masked rider, riding at full speed through the town, and in their haste, trampling on the things their quarry had missed. Santiago was just coming out of the inn and saw the whole thing. Running with the others, he watched as the riders disappeared around a corner of the pueblo.

"Who was that!" he shouted, feigning surprise. "Who were they chasing?"

"Zorro!" the people cried. "It was Zorro, Your Excellency! Zorro has returned to Los Angeles!"

Santiago was pleased at the fear he saw in the people as they milled about, talking and waving their hands in excitement. Uresti's timing had been perfect. He had found Garcia's early morning patrol at the exact place where Santiago had told him it would be and, as Zorro, he had led them on a mad chase right through the town. Yes, Zorro had indeed returned to Los Angeles.

"Do not worry, everyone!" Santiago called out to calm the people. "I am certain the lancers will soon capture him and place him in our jail."

He was amused, though he was careful not to show it, when the people crowded around him and said, "You do not know, Zorro, Your Excellency. No one can catch Zorro! No one!"

"Be calm, be calm," he said, soothingly. "My lancers have been training hard and they are ready to capture any outlaw who presents himself, even this Zorro, whoever he is. Go back and pick up your things. Carry on with your business. We will take care of Zorro." Holding up his hands to shoo them away gently, he said, "Go on now."

The crowd walked back to the plaza and scattered to pick up their wares, different ones turning to look back over their shoulders at the place where Zorro had vanished. Santiago stood on the corner of the street and watched them. The people gathered in knots of two or three and talked among themselves, still looking around fearfully. Santiago saw that Lozano had come out of his shop and was doing his job. He was talking to some of the people in order to find out what had happened, as if he did not know, and was then making his little comments here and there which would reinforce the rumors that Zorro was getting closer to the day when his army would swoop down from the hills. Lozano was quite good at this. While the merchants went about their business and opened their booths, some of the peons were rolling up their wares and leaving. Fear was sending them to their homes. Santiago watched all of this with satisfaction before turning to go to his office.

Several hours later, Sergeant Garcia and his lancers rode back into the pueblo. They were tired and covered in dust. One of the soldiers was being supported in his saddle by two of the others. Garcia sent the lancers on to the cuartel while he stopped at the Magistrado's office. He was quickly received.

"Report, Sergeant," said Santiago.

"I am sorry, but I must tell you that Zorro got away, Your Excellency," said Garcia, standing at attention and looking up at the ceiling, not wanting to meet the Magistrado's eyes. He remembered how it was when he had been forced to face his former capitán with the same lack of success.

"Got away?" said Santiago.

"Sí, Your Excellency," said Sergeant Garcia. Then he looked at the Magistrado as he said, "We almost caught him, Your Excellency. He is riding a different horse, one that is not so fast as the old one and we almost caught him. We were this close," he held up his thumb and index finger very close together.

"Well, what happened? How did he get away?" asked Santiago. He was indeed very curious to hear how Uresti had almost gotten himself caught. That would not do at all.

"He turned his horse around and fired right at us, Your Excellency. He has never done that before." Garcia was very puzzled and saddened at the same time.

"He has never . . . he is an outlaw, Sergeant," said Santiago. "You mean that he has never shot at the lancers before this?"

"Sí, Your Excellency, . . . I mean no, Your Excellency. Zorro has fired his pistol before, but he has never really tried to kill us like this. Lugo was wounded in the shoulder this time," Garcia shook his head sadly. "It is just not like Zorro to do this." He became silent as he thought about it.

Santiago knew that Uresti would do whatever was necessary to prevent his capture. He did not fault the man for that. Besides, the wounded soldier would only serve to add to the idea that Zorro was dangerous. He asked, "Sergeant, where did you lose sight of Zorro?"

"We lost him in the hills at the northern boundary of the de la Vega rancho, Your Excellency. We took cover in the rocks after Lugo was shot and Zorro got away then. When we did not see him anymore, we turned around and came back to the pueblo. We needed to get Lugo to the doctor."

"Very well, Sergeant. Go and see to your man and get cleaned up. We will talk of this later," said Santiago. After Garcia left, Santiago leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard thoughtfully. He was quite satisfied with Uresti's performance this morning. He was sure that the peons who had left the plaza after the incident were spreading the news of Zorro's return. And now that one of the soldiers had been wounded by the masked outlaw, everyone in the district would know. Now for the best part. Diego de la Vega would be returning from Buena Ventura this very afternoon from an assignment. That he was out of town when Zorro was sighted and would have been in the vicinity of the place where the patrol lost the outlaw as he traveled home would be one of the facts which would be presented at the coming trial. The Magistrado would merely have to intimate that Diego had the opportunity to meet with Zorro today, corroborated by the Sergeant's testimony of Zorro's whereabouts and there, another nail in de la Vega's coffin would be driven home. Santiago savored this for a few moments more before turning to the papers on his desk. He still had his work to do as the Magistrado and he was quite a conscientious man. He laughed quietly to himself as he dipped his pen into the inkwell.


	18. B1 Ch17: Raising the Stakes

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 17 – _Raising the Stakes_**

It was late afternoon when Diego rode up to the back of the de la Vega hacienda. He turned his horse over to Raul, one of the vaqueros, and entered the house through the kitchen. He was tired. It had taken longer than he had expected to take the deposition of the man in Buena Ventura and he had decided to stop in at the hacienda to freshen up and eat something before going on to the pueblo to meet with the Magistrado. He would have taken another day to return from Buena Ventura but for the insistence of the Magistrado that he must return today. He wasn't sure why he had to return so soon, but he had no reason to question the Magistrado's wishes. He greeted Crescensia as he passed through the kitchen.

"Crescencia. I am as hungry as a bear," he said. "Can you prepare something for me to eat? I must be on my way to Los Angeles shortly, but I cannot go until I eat something."

"Sí, Don Diego, I can make you something," she said.

"Graciás, Crescensia. You are the finest woman I know," Diego said with a smile. "I will send Bernardo down to fetch it in a few minutes. I will eat in my room while I change."

"Sí, Don Diego," Crescensia said as she watched Diego leave the kitchen. She used to think that the young man was gone from the hacienda too much when he had nothing better to do than go to the tavern and spend his time there. Now he was still gone all the time, and although he had a fine reason to be gone, Crescensia still worried. Not for Diego, but for his father, Don Alejandro.

She had observed how Don Alejandro had faced being alone when he had sent his only son to Spain for those years. He had fought the loneliness by working harder than ever on the rancho. The death of his wife had focused his affections on his only son, and sending the boy off to Spain had been a hard thing for Don Alejandro to do. But he endured it because he knew it was good for Diego and that his child would return to him a man. Then Diego had come back somehow changed by his time in Spain and Don Alejandro found that he was still alone in his own home. Diego stayed in this house, but it seemed he did not live here. Even Crescensia had that feeling.

Don Alejandro was mystified by his son and his disappointments ran deep though he did his best to let Diego be. This road was a rough one, and not without its pitfalls, but some semblance of outward peace had descended upon the de la Vega household. Then came this job with the Magistrado and Crescensia was happy for Diego. Like his father, she hoped this would give Diego something useful to do with his life. But as Diego had spent more and more time with Señor Santiago, she could see that Don Alejandro was still alone. The two men could not talk about Diego's work except in the most general of terms, and so Don Alejandro was still very much excluded from his son's life. Once again, Don Alejandro found that all he had was his work with the rancho and he immersed himself in it. But he still loved Diego deeply.

Perhaps Crescensia was the only one who could see this as she watched the two of them. This love was why Don Alejandro hurt so much when he saw Diego drifting away from him and all he had built for his only son and heir. Sighing, she shook her head sadly and began to prepare Diego's meal.

Diego saw no one else as he ascended the stairs to his room. He entered, hoping to find Bernardo, but was disappointed to find his room empty. He threw his hat and valise upon his bed and took off his jacket, hanging it on the back of the chair by the desk. The necktie and vest soon followed. Rolling up his sleeves, he poured some water into the basin on his dresser and began to wash his face and hands. As he dried his face with the towel, he saw in the mirror the secret panel opening behind him and Bernardo stepping through. He turned to greet his mozo.

"It is good to see you," he said, drying off the back of his neck. "Everything all right with Tornado?"

Bernardo nodded and then signed that he had important news.

"What is it?" asked Diego. Bernardo made the signs for the soldiers and the fact that they were chasing someone through the pueblo. "Who were they chasing?" Bernardo made the sign for Zorro. "Zorro?" said Diego in surprise. "They were chasing Zorro?" Bernardo nodded yes emphatically. "Did you see this personally?" Diego wanted to know. Bernardo shook his head no. Then he made the sign for Sergeant Garcia. "Sergeant Garcia saw Zorro?" Bernardo nodded and indicated that it was Garcia and his lancers who had chased Zorro. Then he indicated they had lost Zorro, and that one of the soldiers had been shot. "Not Sergeant Garcia," said Diego with real concern. Bernardo shook his head and indicated that it was another soldier. Diego jumped to his own conclusion. "Zorro shot one of the soldiers." Bernardo nodded solemnly. "The soldier will live?" Yes, indicated Bernardo.

Diego walked over to the chair by his desk and leaned with both hands on its back as he thought about what he had just been told. Someone was deliberately raising the stakes by having Zorro make an appearance. At first, it was just vague rumors about Zorro hiding somewhere in the hills, but now someone impersonating Zorro had been chased through town and this imposter had shot one of the soldiers. Zorro had been impersonated before and it rankled Diego as much now as it had then. Zorro was his creation, a part of him. Zorro belonged to him and to no other. Diego felt somehow violated that someone was using him in this manner. Him, Zorro.

The question was, . . . why?

Bernardo tapped him on the arm and he turned to see the servant spreading his hands to ask the same question.

"I do not know, Bernardo," he said. "I do not know why anyone would do this. Other than the rumors we have heard about Zorro and his hidden armies, there has been no indication of problems in the district. The Magistrado's rule here has been effective and all has been quiet. Sergeant Garcia's patrols have turned up nothing in all these months, nor have I seen or heard anything in my work with the Magistrado or in my travels which seem suspicious. The only thing that has puzzled me so is why the rumors of Zorro and his army have not died away as they should have. We see now that someone is deliberately using Zorro for their own purposes. Who they are or why they are doing this is still very much a mystery." Diego draped the towel over the back of the chair as he said, "Perhaps the Magistrado has more information?" Bernardo shrugged his shoulders to say he did not know.

"Come, we will find out." said Diego. "Get me a change of clothes ready and then go have the vaqueros saddle a fresh horse for me and get yours ready also. We will go into town together."

While Diego changed, Bernardo ran down the stairs and carried his master's wishes to one of the vaqueros. As he was coming back through the kitchen, Crescensia stopped him and made him to understand he was to take a tray of food up to Diego. Bernardo smiled to show that he understood, and carried the tray with him back up to Diego's room. By this time, Diego had changed into his rust colored suit and was running a comb through his hair in front of the mirror.

Seeing the servant with the tray, Diego pointed and said, "Put it on the desk, there. I had forgotten I had asked Crescensia to prepare some food for me. Roll some of the meat in one of the tortillas and I will eat it as we ride. I want to get to the pueblo as soon as possible."

Bernardo prepared the tortilla while Diego poured and quickly drank a glass of wine. Taking the valise from his bed, Diego pulled some documents from it and put them into a portfolio which he tucked under his arm. "Let's go," he said. Leading the way, he and Bernardo descended the stairs and headed toward the stables.

From behind him, he heard his father say, "Diego! Diego wait just a moment!" He turned to see his father coming toward him from the sala.

"I did not know you were home, my son," said Don Alejandro. "I want to tell you the latest news from the pueblo."

Diego was in a hurry and was not as patient as he might have been. "I already know, Father. Bernardo told me about Zorro being seen in the pueblo. I am on my way to see the Magistrado now. I cannot stay any longer, I'm sorry." He bowed and said, "Con permisso?", leaving before his father could answer.

Don Alejandro was affronted and rendered speechless by this, and Diego was out of the house before his father gathered his wits and called after him. "Diego!"

Crescensia peered around the corner of the kitchen in time to see Don Alejandro clench his fists in anger and then storm back into the sala. Shaking her head sadly, she went back to her work.

Bernardo took Diego's portfolio from him and handed the tortilla over as they rode side by side. He knew Diego had made his father angry just now and it saddened him. But he also knew that Diego was in need of information about the person who had dared to impersonate El Zorro. Diego's honor was bound within that of Zorro's and he would not rest until Zorro's reputation was restored. Despite being labeled a rogue, an outlaw and a bandit, Zorro still had his personal honor to uphold. And the true Zorro would let no imposter destroy that.

Bernardo was also concerned about the imposter. Concerned about why he had suddenly appeared from out of nowhere and wondering just who he could be. He and Diego had no answers, but knowing his master as he did, Bernardo surmised they would soon be searching out any clues that they could find in hopes of clearing up the mystery. And hopefully exposing the imposter for what he was without compromising Diego's identity.

The two men rode into the pueblo just as the sun was sitting low on the horizon. They spotted the Magistrado walking towards the cuartel with Sergeant Garcia and Doctor Avila. Pulling up in front of the cuartel, they tied their horses to the hitching rail and went to meet them.

Santiago said, "Ah, Diego. Good to see you. You are rather later in arriving than I had supposed you would be just coming from Buena Ventura. Any reason for the delay?" This was said for the benefit of the Sergeant and the doctor.

"Buenas tardes, Your Excellency. Sergeant. Doctor Avila," Diego said in greeting, bowing politely to each one. "I had some difficulty in taking the señor's deposition, Your Excellency. He had been drinking rather heavily the night before and did not make himself available until mid-morning." Diego was careful not to give out the man's name, respecting the confidentiality that the Magistrado prized so highly. Taking the portfolio from Bernardo, he patted it and said, "But after several hours work, I have the documents you requested and have the man's own statements recorded for you."

Doctor Avila said, "While you have been away gathering your papers, Diego, you have missed all the excitement. Sergeant Garcia here almost captured El Zorro today." Some of the peons selling their wares nearby looked up at the mention of Zorro's name. Any mention of the famous bandit was not to be missed.

Garcia looked slightly embarrassed. Before he could say anything, Santiago spoke. "Yes, Diego. The man you look upon almost as a savior rode through the town disrupting the market place and actually shot one of the lancers this morning. I have a second patrol out looking for him now. Doctor Avila here, was just going to check on the lancer who was shot." Santiago's voice was rather dry.

"Bernardo told me about Zorro's actions, Your Excellency," said Diego, maintaining a grip on his emotions. He did not like being chided for his views on Zorro, as justified as the chiding might be in light of what the imposter had done. After all, the Magistrado did not know the real Zorro. He continued, "I must confess the news took me completely by surprise. He has not been seen hereabouts for so long."

"Garcia's patrol lost him in the hills north of your hacienda, Diego," said Santiago. "Coming from Buena Ventura, did you happen to notice anything out of the ordinary? Your paths might have crossed." Santiago looked to make sure Garcia and Doctor Avila were absorbing his statements. They were all attention. Even the peons were looking at each other as they listened in. Good.

"No, Your Excellency, I saw nothing as I traveled home before coming here," said Diego.

"Oh? Why did you go to the hacienda before coming to the pueblo, Diego? You know I wished you to report to me as soon as you had returned," probed Santiago. Diego had handed him another point to use in casting doubts upon himself and Santiago was going to use it.

"Your Excellency, it was but a short delay in my coming to the pueblo, I assure you. As you know, our hacienda is quite close to the road leading to the pueblo and I merely diverted there long enough to change clothes and obtain a fresh horse. I had pushed mine rather hard to return today as you wished in light of the fact I had to spend extra time with the señor from Buena Ventura. I was home for no more than fifteen minutes." Diego said this with sincerity, wondering why the Magistrado seemed displeased with him. Surely these documents he was carrying were not that important? The señor's case from Buena Ventura was quite ordinary.

Standing behind Diego and off to one side, Bernardo naturally assumed his role of the deaf servant, but what he was hearing was prickling the hair on the back of his neck. He studied Santiago from his vantage point and knew in his heart something was not right. There were the little looks which Santiago gave the Sergeant and the doctor from time to time, as though he were gauging their reactions to his questions for Diego. Even the peons who gathered about were being watched by the Magistrado out of the corner of his eye. Without looking directly at Diego, Bernardo could feel the tension building in his master as he answered the Magistrado's questions. It was as though Santiago was playing Diego like an instrument for the benefit of the onlookers. But why? Bernardo realized that he had a problem. What could he tell Diego? That he had a bad feeling about the Magistrado? He would have to try and tell him something, but it would have to be later when they were alone. There was nothing he could do now but continue to observe and listen. He watched Santiago all the more closely, while seeming not to be paying attention at all.

Santiago had what he wanted from Diego, so he decided to discontinue pushing the young man. He could see Diego was concerned that he had somehow disappointed his superior even though he had done all that had been asked of him. "Do not worry, Diego," he said in a lighter tone, smiling to disarm his assistant deputy. "I am just understandably upset that one of our lancers has been wounded. I do not mean to be so hard on you. Of course you have done the excellent work that you always do. A little tardiness is insignificant. Come, let us all go and see how the lancer is doing, shall we?" He held out his hand to indicate that Doctor Avila should walk with him. They headed for the gates of the cuartel. Santiago was pleased with the way this little episode had turned out. The seeds of doubt were being planted. He knew those seeds would grow. He would make sure of it.

Diego fell in beside Sergeant Garcia and Bernardo walked behind them. Diego was still a little off balance from Santiago's questioning, but it could all be explained away by the Magistrado's concern for one of his men. It was well known that Santiago was a caring man. Just consider the loving care he gave to his wife, Gracilia. Dismissing the whole incident, for he had other concerns, Diego addressed the sergeant.

"Sergeant Garcia," he said smiling. "So you chased Zorro again, eh? How did you come to find him so close to the pueblo? "

"I do not know, Don Diego," said Garcia. "We were just returning from early patrol along the road from San Pedro when all of a sudden there he was. Right there in the road in front of us. I called to him that he was under arrest, but he just laughed, Don Diego. You know how he is. But now that I think about it, he must have had a cold or something because he sounded different."

"Different, Sergeant?"

"Yes, his voice was deeper, . . . rougher," said the Sergeant. "Not like I remember it at all."

"Go on, Sergeant" encouraged Diego. They were passing into the cuartel now.

"Zorro yelled, 'Catch me if you dare!' and rode toward the pueblo. We chased after him." Garcia shook his head. "He rode right through the plaza, knocking down carts and people with us close behind him. We chased him right into the hills."

"How did the soldier get shot?" asked Diego.

"Lugo? Oh, we were catching up to Zorro, Don Diego. We were actually catching up to him. I think the extra training the Magistrado has been giving us must have been doing some good. Or else it was because Zorro's horse did not seem to be so fast as his other one. In another few moments we would have surrounded him, but he turned his horse around and stood his ground. Then he pulled his pistol and shot straight at us. We tried to scatter, but he shot Lugo before he could move."

"That is not like Zorro," said Diego.

"That is just what I told the Magistrado, Don Diego. 'It is just not like Zorro to do this.' I said to him. I still can't figure it out, Don Diego. Zorro was always a rogue, but he was never a mean rogue." Garcia looked around, "Just between us, I think he used to go out of his way not to hurt any of us, even when we were under orders to shoot him. He is not that way now," the Sergeant concluded sadly.

"I am sorry to hear that, Sergeant," said Diego sincerely. "You say you lost Zorro in the hills north of our rancho?" He wanted to narrow down the area he intended to search at his first opportunity.

They came to stand at the foot of the stairs going up to the barracks as Santiago and the doctor continued upwards. Garcia looked up as he watched them. "Sí, Don Diego. You know the hills separating your lands from those of Don Tomas Yorba? That is where we lost him. The Magistrado sent out another lancer patrol with Corporal Reyes to try and pick up his trail. They should be coming back soon unless they found something. I would not want to run into Zorro in the dark. The next time he shoots at us, we might not be so lucky."

Diego felt the Sergeant needed a little cheering up, so he said, "Don't worry, Sergeant. I am sure that if Zorro is seen again, you will capture him and claim the reward. It is still fifteen hundred pesos, you know." Garcia seemed to brighten a little at the prospect. Diego continued, more to himself than to the Sergeant, "But I wonder why he has come back after all this time."

Garcia looked back up towards the barracks where Santiago was and said, "The Magistrado still thinks Zorro is scheming to take over California, Don Diego. He said so just this morning after we returned. Everyone thinks so. Everywhere you go, people are talking about Zorro's army somewhere in the hills. That is why we have to catch him. We have to stop him before he tries to do what the Eagle tried to do."

"You do not believe those stories, do you Sergeant?" asked Diego. "There is no proof of this."

"Before today, Don Diego, I was not willing to believe them. But after today, . . . ." he trailed off, shaking his head. "After today, what else can I believe when the Magistrado is so sure?"

Diego was dismayed. He realized that Sergeant Garcia was easily swayed. It was his weakness. But he had hoped the Sergeant would have had more faith in Zorro. He offered a lifeline. "Sergeant, what if this Zorro is not the real Zorro? It is not the first time someone has dressed up like the outlaw for their own purposes. What if someone is just using his disguise?"

Garcia brightened again. "Sí, Don Diego!" he said. "Capitán Monastario did that with that skunk of a man, Martinez." Garcia thought very hard. "No, Don Diego. I saw Zorro clearly. It was him. I know it was."

Before Diego could protest further, Santiago called from the top of the stairs, "Sergeant. Come up. You may see Lugo now."

"Sí, Magistrado," called Garcia, and quickly he went up the stairs. Diego shrugged at Bernardo who had been listening to everything and they both followed the Sergeant. Garcia had been fooled by imposters before. To him, anyone wearing a black cape and a mask would be Zorro.

Much later, after the Magistrado finished going over the documents brought from Buena Ventura quite thoroughly, Diego was finally allowed to return home. The Magistrado would not say very much about Zorro to Diego, except to say that he was going to step up the patrols in the hills where he had vanished in order to try and capture the outlaw. Diego surmised the Magistrado was mindful of his views on Zorro and did not wish to place Diego in an awkward position concerning the masked bandit. Diego could appreciate that. However, Santiago was preventing him from doing that which he most wanted to do and that was to search for some signs of the imposter for himself. The Magistrado had given him a whole sheaf of documents to read concerning the situation with the newly formed Mexican government and their relationship with California. He wanted Diego to read them by morning before he reported back to the pueblo. He could not search the countryside tonight and read the documents at the same time. So he turned to Bernardo.

As they rode along in the darkness toward the hacienda, Diego said, "Bernardo. I am going to have to call upon you to search for any signs of this imposter for me. Tomorrow, when I am with the Magistrado, I want you to ride up to the area where they lost the false Zorro and see what you can find. You will have to be very careful and not be seen by the lancer patrols which the Magistrado has sent out." Diego could see Bernardo nodding in the moonlight. "We must find this man and expose him for what he is," said Diego, pounding his fist on his thigh. "He must be stopped before he does something much worse than he has already done. I created Zorro as a protector of the people, not someone who harms them."


	19. B1 Ch18: Son of Mystery

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 18 – _Son of Mystery_**

The next morning, after Diego had ridden to the pueblo, Bernardo saddled his horse and rode to the area where the false Zorro had disappeared. He rode for hours, looking in all the likely hiding places and found nothing but the tracks of the lancer patrols. He thought about some of the places that his Zorro had hidden when being chased in the past by the soldiers, and rode through them as well, but still saw nothing to indicate where the imposter might be. It was as though the imposter had vanished, if he ever existed in the first place, which Bernardo was beginning to doubt. But sadly, he knew the man did exist because he had been seen by too many people in the pueblo and had also shot the lancer. He agreed with Diego that they must find this man and have him captured as soon as possible before he did any more damage to the real Zorro's reputation or before he actually killed someone. Sighing to himself, he turned his horse around and covered the ground again, looking for any clues he might have missed, but still turned up nothing. By the time he returned to the hacienda, both he and his horse were very tired.

Don Alejandro was out in the stables himself, having just returned from checking on the cattle herd on the eastern range when he saw Bernardo riding in. He noticed that both Bernardo and his horse were covered in dust as though they had been riding hard. He had never had much luck in communicating with the mute servant, but he was curious about Bernardo's condition. As Bernardo stepped down from the saddle and prepared to lead his horse into the stall, Don Alejandro stopped him. Speaking loudly, as though that made some difference, he motioned with his hands as he spoke. "Bernardo! Where have you been? What have you been doing?"

Bernardo just looked at him curiously. Exasperated, Don Alejandro tried to remember how Diego made himself understood. Waving his arms with more exaggeration, he said loudly, "Where have you been?" Bernardo continued to look at him and seemed to be concentrating. Then he smiled and nodded. Pointing to himself and then pointing in several directions away from the hacienda, Bernardo launched into a series of signs, none of which made any sense to Don Alejandro.

Don Alejandro watched for a few moments and then said, "I don't understand you. What are you saying?" This urged Bernardo to new efforts which were still incomprehensible. Don Alejandro turned to Raul, the vaquero who took care of the horses, and said, "Do you understand anything he is saying?" Bernardo stopped what he was doing and looked curiously at both men.

"No, Patron," said Raul. "I do not understand any of it."

Growling, Don Alejandro said, "It is beyond me how Diego communicates with the man. Just forget it. I probably wouldn't like what he would have told me anyway." Giving Bernardo one last stare, Don Alejandro turned and went into the house, grumbling to himself under his breath.

Bernardo watched him go, sighing in relief. Of course he knew what Don Alejandro wanted, but he could not reveal what he had been doing. He did not like deceiving the elder de la Vega, but it was necessary in order to keep his young master's secrets. His first loyalty was to Diego. Wiping his brow with his hand, he turned back to the care of his horse.

Don Alejandro entered the house and went up to his room to change for the evening. Old Juan had laid out his clothing and had poured a basin of water for him to use to clean up. As he changed, Don Alejandro thought about his life now and how dissatisfied he was. Here he was with the largest and finest rancho in all California and he could not even communicate with one of the servants. This was only the latest in a long list of things which bothered Don Alejandro. The death of his wife had been hard to accept, but he had come to terms with God on that a long time ago. He still missed Isabella deeply and his heart was saddened each time something reminded him of her, but he could at least understand that. It was his son and everything which surrounded him that caused him so much dissatisfaction now. Diego was the son of his loins, a de la Vega from a long line of de la Vegas. He seemed to take little interest in the things that made a man want to stand tall and proud among his peers. And Don Alejandro could not understand that at all. He felt a pain in his heart to think that his son, a de la Vega, was unwilling to defend himself physically, preferring words over actions. He was distressed that his son, a de la Vega, had little interest in the land or the cattle that meant so much to Don Alejandro. Diego seemed to have dismissed the toils and the blood spilled by his forebears to take and hold this land against those who would take it from them, concentrating instead on insubstantial things like poetry and music. Things which you could not hold in your hands. Things which you could not build upon to leave something of substance to your heirs. Don Alejandro shook his head.

Lately his son's interests had been claimed by the position the Magistrado had offered to him. In the beginning, Don Alejandro tried to imagine he was happy his son had turned to something productive, but now he realized that he was just as dissatisfied as he had been since Diego's return from Spain. He visualized the rancho from the vantage point of the hill overlooking the hacienda. This was what he had worked for so long to achieve. Something of worth to hand down to his son and his son's sons. And what he wanted was a son who would take what Don Alejandro had achieved and build upon it himself. That was what his heart desired. Without that, all of this meant nothing.

Don Alejandro adjusted the banda around his waist and pulled on his jacket. He was going down to have a meal, which more than likely he would have to eat alone. Diego spent more time in the pueblo or away from home now than before he signed on with the Magistrado. Don Alejandro clenched his teeth. He was almost jealous of the Magistrado for taking Diego away from him. He paused. Yes, he was unhappy with Diego. He had to endure being shut out of Diego's life more and more as time went on, but still . . . . Still, he loved his son and wanted to be a part of his life. As broken hearted as he was over his disappointment in Diego, Diego was still his son and he loved him very much.

Running the back of his hand over his eyes to wipe away the mist that seemed to cover them, Don Alejandro pulled his shoulders back and went down to his supper. Brooding over Diego would not change anything. He would just go down, eat his meal and read a book in the sala until it was time to go to bed.

Don Alejandro did just that. But, as he sat before the fireplace trying to read his book, he found himself staring into the flames, seeing Isabella in his mind's eye, sitting on the floor by this very fireplace, playing with their one year old son, Diego. He remembered taking Diego with him to Monterey when the boy was only ten years old and how Isabella had worried about such a long trip. He remembered holding Diego only a year later and rocking him to sleep for many nights after they laid Isabella to rest up there on the hill, both of them needing the comfort that such closeness brought. He remembered how Diego had followed him around the rancho, taking great interest in everything his father was doing and how flattered he had been when he saw Diego trying to imitate him. There had been nothing in Diego's life before he went to Spain which had indicated he would change into the kind of man he was now.

Spain.

What was there about that voyage to Spain which had wrought such a change in his son? Don Alejandro shook his head. He had asked himself that question many, many times. He knew the university at Madrid, he had attended it himself. That Diego could go there and fail to achieve the things they had talked about before he left, was beyond Don Alejandro's comprehension. Whenever he had tried to talk to Diego about it, he was given vague and unenlightening answers. _"Father, that is my life,"_ he would say about his poetry and music. _"Just as yours is raising horses and breeding cattle."_ And the sad thing was that Don Alejandro could not find it within himself to disagree to the point of doing anything about it. Yes, he voiced his displeasure, but he loved Diego enough to let him have his freedom to do as he chose even though he did not like it. The face of his wife flashed before him again and he knew what she would say. _"Let him make his way in the world like he wants to do, Alejandro,"_ she would say. _"He is not you. He has his own ways. One day you will be proud of him for who he is, not who you want him to be."_

Don Alejandro shifted uneasily in his chair. "I just want him to be a de la Vega", he said to himself under his breath. "I want him to be a man." He sensed this would not have swayed his wife's views, but there it was, nevertheless. But as he remembered his wife and her love for him, he knew he would let Diego continue to do as he wished for her sake. Closing his book, he decided that he would give up any pretense of reading and go on up to bed. Looking at his watch, he wondered if Diego would be coming home soon.

As if in answer to his thoughts, Diego came in the door.

"Good evening, Father," said Diego with a smile.

As he was feeling rather disgruntled, Don Alejandro said, "You have arrived too late for supper, Diego. Everything has been put away."

Diego did as he always did and swallowed the hurt his father's remarks caused him. "I am sorry, Father," he said. "I ate supper in the pueblo with the Magistrado. He had many things to discuss with me."

"None of which you are allowed to tell me," muttered Don Alejandro into his beard.

"Your pardon, Father? I did not hear you," said Diego, even though he could guess at the tenor of the remarks.

Don Alejandro waved a hand at Diego and said, "Nothing. It was nothing." He looked up at Diego. "Did you hear any more about Zorro? Have they found him?"

"No, Father. There was no more news of Zorro. The patrols returned empty handed, but they will be going back out again tomorrow." Diego was anxious to find Bernardo and hear what he had to say about his search of the hills. Hopefully, the servant had better news.

"They will not find him," stated Don Alejandro. "They never find him when he does not want to be found. Did anyone discover why he was so near the pueblo?"

"They know nothing more than they did before," said Diego. "There are merely the wild rumors flying around that serve only to frighten the people."

"Zorro's army?" asked Don Alejandro.

Clenching his jaws, Diego hesitated a moment before trusted himself to speak. "I do not believe those rumors, Father. Nor should you," he said with rather more force than he intended. He had heard that rumor more times than he could count in the last two days and he was sickened by it.

Don Alejandro looked more closely at his son. Why this strong reaction about Zorro? Diego had been mildly interested in the bandit from time to time, but nothing like this. He was going to pursue this further when Diego interrupted him.

"Father, If you will excuse me, I have to go and find Bernardo. I have an assignment in Santa Barbara and I must leave very early tomorrow. Con permisso?" Diego did not wait for his father's answer as he turned and headed toward the stairs. He felt he had to leave when he did because he did not wish to discuss Zorro with his father. There was nothing he could offer on the topic except to say that he knew with certainty the man in question was not the real Zorro. And if he should be pressed to say how he knew this, was he going to admit to his father that he was the real Zorro? He was still not ready to do this. He was determined that he would be the one to expose the imposter. He would do it as Diego de la Vega and not as Zorro. If he assumed the guise of Zorro once more, it would weaken all the arguments he had presented to Bernardo as to why Zorro was no longer necessary. He would not resurrect Zorro as long as he could work to protect the people through his position in the Magistrado's office. No, he wanted to keep Zorro out of this if he could. His father would just have to wait and see what would develop like everyone else. He was brought up short by his father's voice from behind his back.

With a sharpness which cut through Diego, Don Alejandro said, "May I remind you, my son, though you should not have forgotten, the anniversary of your mother's passing is tomorrow?" Anger colored his words as he continued, "Would you not honor her memory with flowers to be placed on her grave and prayers, as is our custom?"

Diego turned to face his father. "Father, believe me when I say I am sorry I have to go away at this time. But the Magistrado has assigned me to go to Santa Barbara and I will not be here. Perhaps when I return then we . . . ."

He was interrupted. "What is so important that you cannot take the time to honor your mother's memory?" demanded Don Alejandro.

"Father, you know I cannot tell you," said Diego. "We have been over this before. When I get back I will go to mother's grave and observe our custom. I promise." Diego knew the importance of the memorial to his father, but he had sworn to uphold his duty as an officer of the King, and he had no choice but to obey the Magistrado's orders.

Don Alejandro was not satisfied. He glared at Diego a moment, but was so angry and disappointed he could not speak. Finally, he just snatched up his book and pretended to read it, totally ignoring Diego. He did not see the sadness on Diego's face. The silence stretching between them, Diego turned at last and went upstairs to his room. Don Alejandro put his book down then and stared after his son, but there was still nothing more to say. His son had become like a stranger to him in his own house.

When Diego entered his room, he found Bernardo polishing a pair of his shoes. "Pack my saddlebag. Enough for me for a couple of days," he said sharply. At Bernardo's questioning look, he said harshly, "Just do as I said." He immediately relented as he saw the hurt look on Bernardo's face. "I'm sorry, Bernardo. I just had words with my father and I am still upset. Go on, start packing." Bernardo quietly pulled out the saddlebag and began folding the clothes that would go into it. He knew that as soon as he could regain control, Diego would tell him the rest. Diego tossed his portfolio onto the bed and stood looking down at the floor with one hand resting on the post of his bed and the other on his hip.

"Even when I am not Zorro, I cannot please my father," said Diego after a few moments. "The Magistrado has assigned me to go to Santa Barbara to work on an investigation for him and that will conflict with the memorial for my mother. I must leave before dawn to go to Santa Barbara, it is my duty as the Magistrado's deputy, but Father does not wish to understand that. I think what bothers him the most is that he does not know why I am going to Santa Barbara. If it were a matter of life and death, he might excuse me, but since he does not know, he cannot believe it is more important than the memorial. And just when I was beginning to think we were coming to an understanding between us." Diego sighed. Bernardo looked at him with sympathy.

Diego took a deep breath, and setting aside his own problems for the moment, he asked, "Did you find anything?" He was disappointed as Bernardo shook his head no. "No tracks? No sign of anything?" Bernardo shook his head no again and held his hands face up. Diego sat down in one of the chairs by the fireplace. "Bernardo, we must find this man." Bernardo made the sign of the 'Z' in the air and pointed to the secret room. Diego saw this and said, "No. Diego de la Vega must do this." Bernardo looked disappointed in his turn. Smiling sadly at his servant friend, Diego said, "You never give up, do you?" Bernardo shook his head no. He returned the sad smile. Slapping the arm of his chair as he stood up, Diego said, "I am a member of His Majesty's government. Although I am young and though I have no great authority, I can still use my office to ask questions and ferret out this man without Zorro's help. This will be a true test to see if this can work for me and I am not willing to give up yet." Bernardo indicated the Magistrado. "I do not want to involve him until I have something of substance to put before him. He has already formed his opinion of Zorro and had it confirmed by the imposter's actions. I am not in a position, as yet, to change that opinion. But I will, Bernardo. I will."

He continued. "The Magistrado said he is being generous and allowing me to gain all the experience I can. That is why he is sending me out so often and now to Santa Barbara. But despite the problems this causes with my father, I think it is a good thing, Bernardo. This way I can meet more people and hear what they have to say about the false Zorro. Perhaps I will stumble across something that will lead us to him." Bernardo made some signs. "I know you do, my friend, but you must remain here. I want you to keep your ears open for any further news of the false Zorro in the pueblo, and you know that Tornado needs you."

Bernardo was not happy. He had never liked being separated from Diego before and now he felt the need to be with him even more. He still remembered the hair rising on the back of his neck when the Magistrado had questioned Diego the other day. Something was not what it seemed and he was afraid for his master. He decided he had to try and say something. Tapping Diego on the arm to gain his attention, he made several signs.

"The Magistrado? What about him?" said Diego. More signs. "You are worried about him? Why? Is he in danger?" No, no signaled Bernardo. He pointed to Diego. "You are worried about me? And the Magistrado?" Diego was thoroughly puzzled. "I do not know what you mean, Bernardo. Try again." Frustrated, Bernardo made some more signs. "The Magistrado is in danger, . . . oh, is dangerous. Dangerous to whom?" Bernardo pointed to Diego. "To me?" said Diego in surprise. "You are trying to tell me that Señor Santiago is a danger to me? That you are worried about me because of him?" Relieved, Bernardo nodded yes emphatically.

Diego looked at his mozo for a time. "You must be mistaken, Bernardo. What makes you think the Magistrado is a danger to me?" This was the part that Bernardo was most concerned about. But he would do his best to express his fears. He began to sign again. "You did not like the questions the Magistrado asked after my return from Buena Ventura?" Diego thought a moment, then said, "I wondered about them also. He seemed overly concerned about my delay in returning to the pueblo. But I think he was just upset by the lancer being shot by that imposter. He spoke no more about it after that." Bernardo made more signs. "I don't understand. He had listeners?" Bernardo nodded. He made the signs for Sergeant Garcia, Doctor Avila, and the peons. "You don't mean to imply that the Magistrado was asking those questions so those people would hear them?" Yes, nodded Bernardo. "But why, Bernardo? Why would he do such a thing?" Of course, Bernardo had no answer to that. He could only shrug his shoulders.

Diego paced over to the door and back again. He knew what Bernardo was talking about, but it just did not seem to fit with what he knew of the Magistrado. After all, he had worked closely with the man for several months and had found no hint of anything that was amiss. Bernardo did not have this experience because he had not been around the Magistrado very much. As far as Diego could tell, the Magistrado was the very same kind of man that Diego was at heart. A man of justice tempered with kindness. They had worked smoothly together and had cleared many cases from the books with everyone being mostly satisfied. He heard nothing but praise from those who had any dealings with the Magistrado and his dispensing of the law. You could not please everyone, of course, but the Magistrado had come as close as any man had in all the years the pueblo had been in existence. Everyone said so. Everyone but Bernardo, it would seem.

Turning to his servant, he said, "I just don't see what you are implying. It is just not like Señor Santiago. I do not think he means me harm in any way. You are just being too cautious because of the danger posed by the imposter. He is the one we have to watch out for. Let us concentrate on capturing him and exposing him for what he is. All right?"

Bernardo was not convinced, but he nodded his head reluctantly. He would follow his young master's lead for now, but he would keep his eyes and ears open.

"Good," said Diego. "Now finish packing my clothing while I go down and speak to Tornado. I may take him for a ride down the canyon before I return. A long ride in the night air will do us both good. You do not have to wait up for me, so I wish you pleasant dreams. Remember, I will be leaving for Santa Barbara early in the morning."


	20. B1 Ch19: Manipulations

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter** **19 - Manipulations**

With the sun a red globe hovering just above the western horizon, Diego rode into Santa Barbara. His palomino snorted to clear the dust from his nose and Diego wished he could do the same. This fall was a dry one, and the dust was everywhere. He would appreciate getting into a room at the inn and having a chance to get cleaned up. As he looked around, he realized he was beginning to be almost as familiar with Santa Barbara as he was with Los Angeles. He had come here several times now as he carried out the assignments given to him by the Magistrado. Santa Barbara was about half the size of Los Angeles and did not have a formal plaza in the center of town. The town was divided into two parts, one on each side of the road that was El Camino Real. The road was broad here, wide enough to turn the drayage wagons or the coaches completely around with room to spare. The garrison was there on the west side of the road, showing its age, but still manned by a company of soldiers. On the east side, just opposite the garrison, was the inn where Diego planned to stay. The Inn of the Roses, it was called. There was only one sad little bush in front of the inn which had any claim to the title, but there were no roses in bloom now. The town stretched down to the water's edge, and Diego could see most of Santa Barbara's harbor as he rode into town. A great deal of cargo went in and out of Santa Barbara and that is what was bringing him to this town today. Señor Lozano was having some difficulty with the purser of a cargo ship which was now anchored in the bay. Some difference of opinion as to the settlement of a debt. Diego was to gather the facts of the case, and if he could not see a way to resolve it, he was to send word to Señor Santiago who would then come and give the matter his personal attention as a favor to Señor Lozano.

Diego was not as familiar with the people of Santa Barbara as he was with those of Los Angeles. He knew some of the people here, Señor Lozano being one of the few, but he was usually in and out so quickly there was no time to form more than acquaintances. He was to meet with Señor Lozano this evening and hear his side of the transaction in question, and then tomorrow he would meet with the ship's captain and the purser to hear their side. Pulling up to the front of the inn, Diego stepped down from his horse and draped his saddlebags over his arm. Tossing a peso to a boy of about eight years old, he said, "Take my horse to the stables and see he is groomed and well fed. Bring him saddled again to me at nine o'clock in the morning and I will give you another coin." He smiled at the boy who happily took the reins and led the horse away.

It took only few moments for Diego to sign for a room and to be shown up the stairs. The room was even smaller than those of "La Posada" in Los Angeles, but the bed was clean and the innkeeper brought towels and a fresh pitcher of water. Diego cleaned himself up and changed from his suede traveling suit into his dark blue suit with the gold trim. He left the dark jacket hanging on the post of the bed for now. Diego missed Bernardo as much as he usually did when he was on one of his trips. Not just because of the work the mozo did as his manservant, but because of the camaraderie the two of them shared. Trust Bernardo to find something to amusing which would give them both something to laugh about. But for now, he would just have to continue on without his servant and friend.

Diego ate a quick meal in the tavern and then went back up to his room. He sat on his bed with a book he had brought with him, and decided to read until it was time to meet with Señor Lozano. He became lost in the story, and found he must have been more tired than he thought, for he was awakened from his sleep by a soft knocking on his door. Scrubbing his face with his hands, Diego noticed that it was now quite dark outside and he wondered what time it was. He got up and went to the door, pulling his watch from his pocket. Good, there was still an hour before his appointment with Lozano. Opening the door, he found the innkeeper standing there. He was a round man, with a round face brightened by a smile. He bowed deeply to Diego.

"Señor de la Vega. I have a note here which has been left for you," he said, presenting a folded piece of paper to Diego.

"Graciás," said Diego. "Who is it from?"

"I do not know, Señor de la Vega," replied the innkeeper. "The man did not give his name."

Diego opened the note and read, _Señor Deputy Magistrado: If you wish to find out where Zorro hides his camp, meet me behind the church at eight o'clock tonight. Come alone._ The note was not signed.

Diego was a bit stunned. "What did the man look like who left the note?" he asked the innkeeper.

The innkeeper thought hard and then said, "He was a thin little man with a mustache and he . . . he walked with a limp."

"Have you seen him before?" asked Diego.

"I may have seen him once or twice about the town, Señor," said the innkeeper. "But he has never come into my inn before. I think he stays down near the docks, maybe." The innkeeper shrugged.

Seeing the innkeeper had nothing further to offer, Diego thanked the man and tossed him a coin, shutting the door when he had gone. Diego's meeting with Lozano was not until half past eight o'clock. He would have time to go to the church and meet this mystery man and see what he had to say. It occurred to him to wonder how someone knew he was coming to Santa Barbara, but he supposed that either Lozano or the ship's purser might have spoken of it. They were under no restrictions to maintain confidentiality. As Diego pulled on his jacket, he was cognizant of the fact he had no weapon which he might take with him. He would just have to depend upon his ability to sense danger and avoid it. But danger or not, he had to meet with this man. Any clues to the identity or the whereabouts of the imposter could not be ignored. He did pause once again to regret that Bernardo was not with him. A second set of eyes and ears would not be unwelcome.

Diego went down the stairs of the inn and stepped out into the night. He paused a few moments to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then he took his bearings on the bell tower of the church and started walking towards it. The church was located several streets away from the inn, in a lower section of the town beyond the garrison walls. The town was not well lit, and the further he walked away from the inn, the darker it became. This did not bother Diego overmuch because, after all, he had spent a great deal of the year previous to this one learning how to handle himself in the dark. He walked next to the walls of the church, floating silently along the path which would take him to the alley behind the bell tower. He did not walk into the alley when he reached it, however. He stopped to look and listen with all of his senses. He wanted to be sure just what he was getting himself into. He saw nothing. Still he did not move. It would be some minutes until eight o'clock.

The bells of the church rang out the hour while Diego waited. When the sound died away, he heard the sound of a man walking down the street. He tilted his head and listened carefully. Yes, it was the sound of a man who walked with a limp. Holding his place, he waited and watched. Finally, a man walked up behind the church. He fit the description given of him by the innkeeper. The man seemed quite nervous, shifting from foot to foot as he clasped his hands in front of him. Seeing that no one else was approaching, Diego decided he would risk meeting the man. Leaving his place, he walked over. The man jumped and seemingly would have fled when he saw Diego coming towards him.

"No, wait," called Diego.

The man pressed his back against the wall of the church as if trying to hide.

"I am the Deputy Magistrado," said Diego as he stood in front of the man. "I am Diego de la Vega."

The man swallowed as he peered at Diego in the darkness.

Diego was growing a little impatient. "You have something to tell me, Señor?" he asked.

Nodding his head and swallowing again, the man said, "Sí, Señor Deputy. I have something to tell you. First though, is the information worth some money to you?"

Diego did not like this at all, so he said, "It depends upon what you are going to tell me, now doesn't it? Why don't you tell me what it is that you have come here to tell me and I will decide what it is worth."

The man nodded nervously as he looked up and down the alley.

"What are you afraid of?" asked Diego.

The man looked directly at Diego then and said, "El Zorro."

"Zorro?" said Diego. "What about him?"

"I know where he is camped in the hills and I can tell you how to find him," said the man. "He is not with his army now and he can be easily captured."

Diego did not believe for one minute there was an army in the hills, but he did know there was a man who was impersonating Zorro. It was just possible the man before him had stumbled on the imposter's camp and could tell him where it was.

"Where is this camp?" he asked.

"No, Señor Deputy," said the man, who seemed to be gathering a little courage. "First the money and then the information." He held out his hand.

Diego sized up the situation. He would pay a great deal of money to know who the imposter was and where he might be found. But he would not let this man know that. Reaching into the small pocket in his jacket, he pulled out some coins. Dropping them slowly, one by one into the outstretched hand, he and the man struck their bargain.

After ten pesos had dropped, Diego withdrew his hand and the man nodded. He clutched the money to his chest and said, "If you ride due east from Santa Barbara for three miles and then turn north, crossing the river, you will see a large mountain. It is on the southeast side of this mountain that El Zorro has made his camp."

"The whole side of a mountain is a big place to search," said Diego. "Ten pesos deserves more of a description than that."

"Sí," said the man. "About half way up the side of the mountain are some big rocks. One is shaped like a man's fist. It is beside this rock that Zorro camps."

"You are certain?" said Diego, searching the man's face intently. He was having doubts.

"Sí, Señor Deputy, I swear it is the truth," said the man.

"Why do you not go to the soldiers and tell them this information?" Diego asked. "There is a big reward for the man who leads to the capture of Zorro."

"Oh no, I cannot do that!" said the man in a panic.

"Why not?" asked Diego.

"The soldiers will put me in jail instead."

Diego was beginning to become nervous himself the longer he stayed here. Just who was this man? "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Me? I am no one, really, Señor Deputy." The man took off his hat and clutched it in his hands. "Capitán Hidalgo does not like me that is all. It is all a misunderstanding. But you, . . . you will not forget me when El Zorro is captured, will you? You are an honest man. You will see that I get my reward won't you?"

Diego studied the man. He did not like the whole set up. "I will consider what you have told me," he said. "I do not yet know if I will act on this information. But how will I contact you if I do go and Zorro is captured? I do not know your name or where you live."

"Do not worry, Señor Deputy," said the man. "If you capture Zorro, I will know. I will find you."

Just then, from around the corner of the church, both men heard the thunderous sounds of many horses. Before either of them could move, a mounted patrol of soldiers from the garrison swung around the corner of the church and came toward them.

"Tomaso!" cried Capitán Carlos Hidalgo, commandanté of the garrison in Santa Barbara. He seemed to recognize Diego's companion immediately. "Capture him!" The soldiers surged forward. The man, whose name was apparently Tomaso, fled into the darkened streets.

Diego flattened himself against the wall of the church to avoid being trampled and waited for the soldiers to ride by. Dusting himself off, he watched as they disappeared into the darkness after Tomaso. It would seem Tomaso was right. The soldiers would put him in jail if he were captured. Diego wondered just what the charges might be.

He started walking back to the inn, thinking about what he had learned from Tomaso. Was it possible the man was telling the truth about the false Zorro's whereabouts? There was no way to know without riding up onto the mountain. He was musing on all of this when he came out upon El Camino Real and saw the inn not far away. With the sound of thunder, he was suddenly surrounded in a cloud of dust made by the horses of the lancer patrol before he had walked twenty paces. The soldiers, on their horses, formed a ring around Diego. They sat looking at him as they waited for their leader to speak. Diego's blood quickened, but this was something he was familiar with given his past, so he gathered himself and quietly stood his ground. Now had he been dressed in black, . . . .

The Capitán moved his horse forward a couple of steps and peered at Diego in the dim light. "Ah, so it _was_ you, Deputy Magistrado. I thought I might have been mistaken back there at the church," he said loudly.

Deciding to be gracious, Diego said, "Buenas noches, Capitán Hidalgo." He smiled.

In a rather condescending voice, Hidalgo said, "May I ask what you were doing back there at the church? Why were you meeting that man, Tomaso?"

"Me?" said Diego. "Why, I was out taking a walk and this man came to me, asking for money." This was quite the truth, . . . so far. Diego was hoping Hidalgo would accept that. If he did decide to look for Zorro where Tomaso had given him directions, he wanted to do it alone, not with an escort of lancers, as would be the case were he to tell Hidalgo anything more. The imposter would be long gone before they would even get close.

"He wanted money, eh?" said Hidalgo, rubbing his chin. Hidalgo was a rugged man, long in the service of the military, if Diego was any judge. His speech and his manner made it clear that he was not of the gentry. He was a frontier soldier, drafted from the ranks, rising to his position as Capitán no doubt by sheer longevity.

Diego decided to ask a question of his own. "Of what crime is this man accused that you chase him through the streets, Capitán?"

"He is a vagrant and petty thief," growled Hidalgo. "He is wanted for questioning in several crimes down at the docks." Hidalgo scowled at his soldiers. There were not many who would meet his eyes as he continued, "We had him in custody yesterday, but he got away from my men." Diego surmised it was not completely the lancers' fault that the nervous little man had escaped. But he discreetly kept his silence. Looking back at Diego, Hidalgo said, "That is all Tomaso wanted? Just some money? Did he say anything else?"

Diego decided to let out a little bit more, fishing on his own for more information. "Well, he was very nervous, and when I asked him why, he said he was afraid of Zorro."

"Zorro, eh?" said Hidalgo, leaning forward with his forearm on his saddle horn. "I have had many reports of Zorro being seen in the hills. A peon came to me just today and said he had been robbed by El Zorro." This was news to Diego. This was the first report he had heard of Zorro robbing someone. Peering suspiciously at Diego, Hidalgo said, "Just why was Tomaso afraid of Zorro? What did he say?"

Diego thought hard and came up with another truth. "He did not say, Capitán. But he looked as though he thought Zorro might come riding through the town at any moment, such was his fear."

"Humph, I'll just bet he was afraid," said Hidalgo, straightening in his saddle. "He was afraid I would find him again, that's what he was afraid of." Hidalgo laughed, deep in his chest. "Just be glad that we rode through when we did, Deputy Magistrado. We saved you from Tomaso and this El Zorro all at the same time!" Hidalgo laughed again. Then he said, "My apologies, Señor, to keep you here like this. Come lancers, we will return to the garrison." The lancers turned and rode with Hidalgo, leaving Diego in their wake.

The dust from their passage blew away on the night breeze and Diego looked after them a moment before going on to the inn. He knew a little more now than before, but the most troubling thing was that Zorro was robbing peons. _He is no better than a common thief,_ thought Diego bitterly. _No better than this Tomaso that the Capitán is looking for._ More determined than ever to find the imposter, Diego realized he would be hampered by the work he had come here to perform. He was to meet with Lozano tonight and then with the ship's captain and purser in the morning. Perhaps tomorrow afternoon he would have some time to himself to go riding in the hills in order to do some looking around. There was something to be said for being a free spirit, he thought to himself. _When I was just a leisurely scholar and poet, my time was my own,_ he thought, ruefully. Nevertheless, he was determined to do his job well and to look for the imposter on his own time. He would not let the Magistrado down.

As he walked into the inn, he pulled out his watch and noticed it was exactly eight thirty. Looking around, he saw Lozano seated at one of the tables near the fireplace, a leather case beside him on the floor. When Lozano saw Diego, he picked up the case and stood. Diego approached him.

"Señor Lozano," said Diego bowing. "I hope I have not kept you waiting?"

"Not at all," said Lozano in a friendly fashion. "I have only just arrived myself."

"Will you follow me to my room?" asked Diego. "I shall have some wine sent up and then we can discuss your problem at length." Diego spoke to the innkeeper and then the two of them walked up the stairs and into his room. As they talked, Diego found that Lozano's problem was not an uncommon one, since sending communications across vast distances was not without difficulty. Lozano had contracted to receive certain goods from the Orient in exchange for some hard currency and other trade goods which he would provide. The difficulty lay in determining the value of the trade goods being provided by Lozano. According to Lozano, the ship's purser was not satisfied with the quality of the goods and was therefore requiring Lozano to make up the lack with currency. Lozano contended that his trade goods were worth more than the purser had valued them. Indeed, Lozano thought he was being quite generous in holding to his part of the contract and providing the amount of currency which had been agreed upon. He would have preferred to withhold some of the currency due to the higher value of the trade goods he was providing, but he was an honest man and was going to uphold his part of the bargain.

Diego knew of nothing which would lead him to believe Lozano was anything but an honest businessman. The Magistrado spoke highly of him and Diego knew that the Magistrado would not say it if it were not so. Diego read the correspondence which Lozano had in his possession from the ship's purser and noted the arrangements. He saw that all of the custom's documents were in order, so there was no difficulty there. He wrote down the particulars for his notes and gave Lozano's documents back to him.

"Señor Lozano," he said. "I think we have covered all the areas of your concern this evening. I shall be meeting with the ship's captain and the purser in the morning. I am sure we will be able to resolve this matter to the satisfaction of both parties."

"Let us hope so, Señor de la Vega," said Lozano. "I must admit that I was a little concerned when the Magistrado sent you in his place." Diego raised his eyebrows at these words. Lozano continued, "But you have demonstrated your quickness and intelligence. I shall, of course, withhold my final judgement pending the outcome of your meeting tomorrow." Diego smiled. "But if I am satisfied with the result, the Magistrado will hear of it. Just as he will if I am not satisfied."

Diego lifted his chin. He was being challenged. "I shall certainly do my best to bring equity to both parties, Señor Lozano. I will not be prejudiced by either side and will hear all the facts. I will try to model myself after the Magistrado, and handle the situation just as he would do were he here."

Lozano smiled. "Graciás, Señor de la Vega. That is all I can ask for." Diego returned the smile.


	21. B1 Ch20: Zorro's Honor

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 20 – _Zorro's Honor_**

Long after Lozano had gone, Diego lay on his bed in the darkness thinking. It made him crawl inside to think that the imposter would use the image of Zorro to rob innocent people. He determined to discover the name of the peon who was robbed, and see that however much money had been stolen from him was returned. And, one way or another, he was going to ride into the hills tomorrow to see if Tomaso was telling the truth. He must find this imposter and bring him to justice, to make sure that he was punished for his crimes. However, this did not relieve the problem of Zorro's reputation being restored. So, what if the man posing as Zorro was exposed and convicted, would he confess to not being the real Zorro? And if he did, would anyone believe him? How could Zorro's reputation be restored? Even if the real Zorro were to appear after the imposter was captured, so that everyone could see the man they had imprisoned was a false Zorro, there would still be those who would say the imposter had just been taking advantage of the situation by impersonating Zorro. They would still believe all the rumors of Zorro's army and of Zorro's desire to take all of California for his own. They would still have a Zorro to pin that upon. The real Zorro.

With a sigh, Diego turned over in his bed. He could not sleep. He could not quiet the thoughts in his head, try as he might. He lit a candle and tried to read, but he could not concentrate on the words. He found his mind returning to the problem again and again. He shut the book with a snap and tossed it on the other side of the bed. He blew out the candle and pulled the bedcovers up to his chest and clasped his hands behind his head. He had no solution to his problem and he tried to will himself to sleep. Hours passed and still he was wide awake, running everything he knew over in his mind and trying to come up with some form of action. Then it occurred to him to wonder to himself, _Just why do I care what happens to Zorro's reputation after the imposter is captured?_ Yes, what would it matter about Zorro then? The imposter would be removed from society where he could no longer harm the people. There would be no need for the real Zorro to show himself, would there? Diego had already decided to let Zorro fade away when he was no longer needed. This was what he had told Bernardo. The Magistrado would see that justice prevailed in the district and Diego would be there to help him every step of the way. Was it just Diego's pride, . . . no, . . . Zorro's pride that demanded that the record be set straight? What would it matter if Zorro's image faded away tarnished or not?

These questions caused Diego to restlessly toss back and forth on his bed, eventually sending his forgotten book sliding to the floor with a thump. He left it there. After a time, his mind wandered back to his home and Bernardo, . . . and his father. Bernardo was his confidant. The only one to whom he could speak of such things as those which were in his heart tonight. He missed Bernardo at such times as this. But he sensed that tonight, not even Bernardo could help him.

His thoughts returned to his father. What would his father say? His thoughts went back further and further until he remembered a certain night when he, as Zorro, had held his wounded father in his arms while Monastario's soldiers had hunted for them. His father's words came back to him as the elder de la Vega had tried so hard to see the man behind the mask. _"It is almost as if I had known you,"_ he had said. _"You seem so much like someone I know."_ From his heart, Don Alejandro had spoken these words, _"So often have I dreamed that my son would come back from Spain, and he would be like you."_ Diego remembered how his heart had been torn by those words. He wanted nothing more than to have Don Alejandro know he was the son his father sought in his dreams. But Diego had sacrificed having his father's respect for him as a man in deference to what he saw as a higher calling. That of being the servant of Señorita Justice. Being the mysterious Zorro was the only way he had to accomplish that. And now, was he willing to sacrifice Zorro for Señorita Justice as well? Was there no justice for Zorro?

Diego let that thought sit in utter silence for a time.

Then, once again, his thoughts returned to his father. To be Zorro meant that he, Diego, must protect those around him. Knowledge of Zorro's identity meant death to those who were caught, thus he would not burden his father with the secret. That sacrifice was still very much a part of his life. But, as Diego continued to think about that night, he also remembered that as he struggled to carry his unconscious father across the rugged terrain to the safety of the cave, how he had resolved that his last ounce of strength would be exhausted before he failed the man he carried in his arms. It was Zorro who carried Don Alejandro that night. It was Zorro whom Don Alejandro credited with saving Don Nacho Torres and countless others. It was Zorro who fought the evil Galindo's henchmen the night they had attempted to frame and kill Capitán Toledano along with Don Alejandro and the others. It was Zorro who had foiled the Eagles' advances and who fought side by side with Don Alejandro in the pueblo that fateful day. It was Zorro who would not fail his father.

With a pounding heart, Diego knew that he had grasped the essential point. Should his father someday discover his other identity, Diego knew that he did not want Zorro's lasting reputation to be forever tarnished. For Don Alejandro's respect for Zorro was his respect for Diego. If Zorro's name became associated with foul death and corruption, remaining unredeemed before the people, then Don Alejandro would be forced to deny Zorro.

Forced to deny his only son.

Diego knew then he must redeem Zorro's honor at whatever the cost to him personally. The thing he longed for most in the world was to gain his father's respect. His father's love for him was a thing understood, but there was a near bottomless void in his heart which could only be filled by earning the respect of his father.

Honor and respect. The two foundations upon which his father and his father's father had built their lives. And all the de la Vegas whom Diego had ever heard about. Diego had his honor and Zorro had his. Together, one day, they would make Don Alejandro proud of them both.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Sometime in the early morning hours, Diego had finally fallen asleep. He was awakened by the innkeeper's knock. Acknowledging his wake up call, Diego stumbled out of bed and got ready for the day. After shaving and running a comb through his hair, he got dressed and went down for a bite of breakfast before heading down to the docks to meet the ship captain and the purser. To be sure he was well prepared, he reviewed his notes from the night before as he ate.

The breeze from the sea reached Diego as he accepted the reins of his horse from the young boy who had brought the palomino to the door of the inn just as he had been told. A shiny new peso was his prize. Diego smiled at the boy's happy excitement and mounted his horse. He rode past the garrison and past the church, down along the dusty streets until he reached the docks. The cargo ship was tied to the end of the main wharf which reached far out into the bay waters. Diego dismounted and tied his horse to a hitching post and proceeded to walk down its length. He enjoyed the sea air and the sounds of the gulls as they wheeled overhead. He smiled as he remembered that the Magistrado's favorite song featured a gull in its title. "La Gaviota," as he recalled. Just as he had sung that song to please the Magistrado when he had first arrived, so now he wanted to complete his assignment in a way which would please the Magistrado. Diego had come to admire Señor Santiago very much, and although they were not that far apart in age, he looked upon Santiago as a mentor. Diego would like nothing better than to be able to return to Los Angeles with this case resolved, thus showing Santiago he was capable of handling more difficult cases.

As Diego approached the ship, the purser, who was on deck, hailed him in a thick Italian accent.

"Señor! You are the deputy magistrado, yes?" the purser called. He was a man of middle years, with gray hair and a pair of spectacles which he had perched on the top of his head.

"Sí, I am Diego de la Vega, Assistant Deputy Magistrado," Diego called back. "May I have permission to come aboard?"

"Sí, permission granted," came another voice, distinctly Spanish, which was deeper and more resonant.

Diego looked to his left and saw a man, whom he took to be the captain of the ship, approaching the gangway. "Graciás, Captain," he said as he walked up into the ship. The captain was almost a foot shorter than Diego, and almost as round as Sergeant Garcia. But he wore his captaincy like a mantle, and Diego had no doubt but that the sailors obeyed him quickly.

Further introductions were made and Diego's credentials were checked. He knew both of the men were skeptical of his abilities due to his young age. Diego pressed his lips together and remained pleasant. He would soon show them how well he could manage. The captain invited Diego to come to his cabin and soon the three of them were immersed in the details of the case. Diego found the purser's accent to be rather difficult to understand from time to time, especially if the man became animated. Diego soon found a use for his education in foreign languages and was able to converse with the purser in his native language, one in which the captain demonstrated fluency as well. This quite impressed the purser and he became very friendly.

From his perusal of the documents, Diego was soon able to discern the problem. It was not the quality of Lozano's goods that was in question, it was the quantity. Through a bit of carelessness, a number seven had been transformed into a number nine by a small smudge of ink on the agreement sent to the purser. So, the ship's purser was expecting a larger quantity of trade goods from Lozano than Lozano thought he had agreed to provide. Diego surmised that the purser's accent led to part of the confusion. "Quality" instead of "quantity". Diego pointed to the mistake and the purser took the paper, pulling his glasses into place so he could scrutinize the document closely.

After a few moments, the purser said, "I see that you are right, young Señor. My eyes are not what they once were. But we still have a problem. We purchased our goods, which we are to deliver to Señor Lozano, based upon this error which was not of our fault. We must recover our costs and make some profit on this cargo, yes? If Señor Lozano cannot accommodate us, for it was not entirely our fault that the error was made, then we shall have no choice but to take our cargo elsewhere and sell it to some other worthy merchant who can meet our price." The purser shrugged his shoulders while the captain nodded his head in agreement.

"I see your point entirely," said Diego. "Perhaps we can arrange a compromise? I will schedule a meeting with Señor Lozano for this evening at the inn where I am staying. Say, eight o'clock? I know that Señor Lozano wants the cargo you are carrying and you wish to receive his goods and money in return. Now that the problem has been discovered, I think Señor Lozano will be agreeable to negotiating a settlement which will benefit both parties. May I say that you will be there?"

The purser looked at the captain and the captain looked at the purser and finally they both nodded at the same time. The captain spoke. "Sí, we will meet with you and Señor Lozano this evening at eight o'clock. We wish a speedy resolution to this problem so we may continue on our journey. We have many other ports of call to make along the South American coast and do not have much more time to spend here."

"Splendid," said Diego, with a smile. "Please bring your papers with you when you come." He gathered up his documents and his notes. He was escorted to the gangway by the two men. Bowing to them both, he said, "Until this evening."

Feeling quite good, Diego made his way back up the wharf and mounted his horse. He felt Señor Lozano's problem would soon be resolved in an equitable manner. Each party might leave with less than they desired, but with more than they might otherwise have gotten. He could have arranged for the meeting to be held sooner, but he still wanted a chance to ride into the hills and check out Tomaso's story. He would need several hours for that expedition. He stopped in at Lozano's store and spoke to him about the mistaken number and asked him to meet with him and the two men from the ship. Lozano seemed to be rather skeptical at first, but relented when he seemed to accept Diego's assurance that the smudged number was at the root of the problem. He agreed to the meeting. Diego was pleased. He continued to the inn where he had a meal and freshened up. Then he called again for his horse and set out to the east of the town, following the directions given to him by Tomaso.

Diego did not see Señor Lozano watching him from the front door of his store as he rode away. Lozano was carefully monitoring Diego's movements. Had he not ridden out of the town to check out Tomaso's information, there would have been a second visit to him by the little man with the limp. The Magistrado's orders were to do whatever was necessary to entice Diego to seek out Zorro's hideout alone. Apparently, no further nudging was needed. Tomaso had performed surprisingly well. As soon as Diego was out of sight, Lozano closed his store and went over to the garrison, asking to see Capitán Hidalgo. He was soon escorted into the Capitán's office.

"Buenas tardes," said Hidalgo when they were alone. "He has ridden into the hills?"

"Sí. He has left just now," said Lozano. "You know what you are to do?"

"Sí, sí," said Hidalgo. "I am to trail him into the hills where I will confront him and question why he is there. Uresti will appear as Zorro and my soldiers will chase him. I will appear to chase Zorro, but will pull back and watch de la Vega to see what he does. I am to write a full report of his actions and you will take it to Señor Santiago in Los Angeles."

"Very well," said Lozano. "I will come to you tonight to receive the report."


	22. B1 Ch21: The Imposter's Camp

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 21 – _The Imposter's Camp_**

Diego reached the river in good time and crossed it, going north as Tomaso had said. The terrain was quite hilly and covered in scrubby brush. Diego rode between two ridges where the going was easier as he made his way toward the mountain towering before him. He held up his hand in front of the brim of his hat to further shade his vision and thought he could just make out some large rocks on the southeastern face of the mountain. He could not yet see if any were shaped like a man's fist, as they were too far away. He was unfamiliar with this land, but decided that he would circle around to the east of the rocks he could see and approach the alleged camp from a direction the imposter would least suspect. He set a good pace for his horse and they soon left the river behind them.

Diego kept looking up on the mountain, searching for a movement or a wisp of smoke from a campfire, anything that would let him know someone was there. He saw nothing. He began to feel a little closed in by the ridges which continued on both sides of him. If anyone else was close by, he would not know it until they were upon him. This raised his senses to a new level and he began to scan the countryside close to him as well as the mountain in the distance. He could have ridden on the ridge himself, but it was slower going there and he would be more visible to anyone who might chance to look his way. He patted his sturdy palomino on the neck and said, "I know you are a faithful servant, my friend, but right now I wish I were riding Tornado." Diego knew he could depend upon his black steed to warn him of anyone in the vicinity. Tornado had a keen natural ability and Diego had trained him well.

After another half hour of riding, and a growing feeling as though he was being watched, Diego suddenly pulled his horse to a stop. He turned and looked over his right shoulder, up to the top of the ridge. There sat a man on a black horse. The man himself was dressed all in black, wearing a flowing black cape and a black mask. "The imposter!" thought Diego to himself. "He has been watching me all along." For a brief moment, Diego took the time to examine the scene before him. "So that is what El Zorro looks like to the people," he mused. He had to admit that the man in black made a powerful image, outlined against the blue sky as he was. Diego was rather pleased at the thought. He had chosen his image well. Somehow, when Bernardo wore the costume it did not have quite the same effect at all. Diego smiled briefly to himself, amused at the image in his mind of his earnest friend.

But now to the present. His thoughts turned darker as his anger rose due to the pretender's presence. Diego spun his horse around, preparing to ride up onto the ridge after the imposter when the false Zorro looked behind him, then fled down the other side of the ridge, out of Diego's sight. Immediately, Diego heard the thunderous sound of horses.

It was Capitán Hidalgo and his lancers. They charged up to Diego, dust billowing around them as they pulled their horses to a stop. Hidalgo did not stop his horse until it bumped shoulders with Diego's palomino, causing the gelding to snort and plunge. Diego calmed him with a firm hand on the reins. He did not like the look on Hidalgo's face.

"De la Vega," growled Hidalgo, jerking his horse's head around as the animal was too excited to be still. It continued to prance nervously beneath him. "What are you doing here?" Pointing to the place where the imposter had disappeared, he said, "And what was that outlaw doing here? Well? Have you no answers?"

Diego forced himself to remain calm. It was a good thing he'd had plenty of practice at letting things like this roll off of him, unlike his beloved father. "I was just taking a ride in the hills," he replied with a smile. Hidalgo's eyes narrowed. Diego continued, "Am I required to ask permission to go for a pleasure ride in the hills around Santa Barbara, Capitán? I was not aware of such a regulation. My apologies."

"No, there is no regulation," growled Hidalgo. "But what business did you have with Zorro? We clearly saw him near you when we rode up."

"I had no business with him at all, Capitán," said Diego. "I was riding along and suddenly I felt as if someone was watching me. When I turned around, there he was. You came along just moments later."

"And you made no contact with him at all?" said Hidalgo. "He is a wanted criminal, and anyone who aides him will be charged as a conspirator." Hidalgo glared at Diego.

"No, Capitán. On my word of honor, I have had no contact with this outlaw at all. And you do not have to inform me of the law. I am, after all, the Assistant Deputy Magistrado." Diego looked Hidalgo straight in the eyes as he said this. The Capitán appeared to weigh his words, but seemed not to be entirely satisfied.

"Señor de la Vega, you will . . . " Hidalgo started to speak, but was interrupted by one of the lancers.

"Look!" the soldier cried, pointing back up on the ridge. "Zorro!" The false Zorro was there again, looking down on them.

"After him!" shouted Hidalgo, and the lancers immediately began charging up the hill. Holding his plunging horseback, Hidalgo pointed his finger at Diego and shouted, "You will return to Santa Barbara, Señor. I will deal with you later!" Kicking his horse into a gallop, Hidalgo set out after his men. The imposter had already fled and was out of sight. Soon the lancers and their capitán were gone as well.

Diego rode up to the top of the ridge and watched the chase. The imposter was already moving up the next ridge, heading south, with the lancers in pursuit. Hidalgo had caught up to his men and was urging them on. In just moments, all of them were lost to sight when they plunged over the top of the next ridge. All that could be seen was the drifting cloud of dust left in their wake.

Before he left the ridge, Diego happened to notice the tracks left by the imposter's horse. The horse was shod, but there was a half-moon shaped piece, a little smaller than the size of a centavo, missing from one shoe. It was unmistakable.

Well, with the soldiers chasing the outlaw, that was finish of any chance he had of capturing the imposter, Diego thought to himself ruefully. He pounded his fist into his thigh in frustration. He had wanted to question the man himself, without witnesses, to find out who else was in on the outlaw's schemes. He wasn't sure why, but it just seemed to him that there was more than just the imposter involved. The rumors about Zorro and his "army" spread too quickly and were entirely too persistent for them to be the result of just one man who was impersonating the masked outlaw. With a sigh, he turned his horse around and started back to Santa Barbara.

Then he pulled up. He might as well take a look at the place where Tomaso had said the imposter kept his camp. There might be some clues there he could pick up and it would also let him verify if the nervous little Tomaso had been telling the truth. He turned his horse around once more and rode toward the mountain and the rocks where the camp should be.

As he rode, Diego took a moment to muse on the chase. It felt quite surreal to watch from a distance as someone chased after Zorro, imposter though he may be. It was as though he were watching himself being chased as he had been so many times before. He was both the chased and the watcher at the same time. It was an image and a feeling he would not soon forget. He shook his head thoughtfully. He would have to make sure he shared the sensation with Bernardo when he returned home. He wondered what his servant friend would think about it.

It took another half hour to reach the large rocks on the mountain's south side. One of them did indeed look like a man's fist pointed defiantly up at the sky. Diego rode around the rocks, and saw there were horse tracks all around them as though someone was not particularly careful with his comings and goings. As he leaned over to peer at them, he noted the prints bore the mark of the missing half moon shape. So the imposter did come to this place. It seemed Tomaso could tell the truth after all. Behind the rocks, Diego did find the remains of a camp. He dismounted and looked more closely. He found the cold ashes of a campfire and a haphazard stack of firewood. There were bones in the ashes of the campfire, no doubt the remains of someone's meal. He found a few wine bottles, empty of their contents, in the brush where they had been thrown. He could see a depression in the sand where someone had spread their blankets for sleeping. But other than that, there was nothing else to be seen.

While Diego looked around the camp, Capitán Hidalgo watched from his hiding place. He had left the soldiers pursuing Uresti and had circled back. Just as Lozano had said, de la Vega was curious enough to want to investigate the outlaw's camp. Hidalgo watched as Diego walked back and forth around the area. By his guess, de la Vega spent twenty minutes or so looking around. Then the young man mounted his horse and paused, looking in Hidalgo's direction. Hidalgo ducked down. When he looked again, Diego was riding back down the mountain, heading toward Santa Barbara. Good. He had not been seen. Hidalgo mounted his horse and rode toward the place where he knew his lancers would be waiting. He had ordered that the soldiers give up their pursuit if they had not run the outlaw down after another couple of miles. He smiled to himself. If Uresti could not keep ahead of his lancers, that would be his problem. But he figured the man was good enough to lose himself in the hills and avoid being captured, or Señor Santiago would not have chosen him to play the role.

When he reached the meeting place, his soldiers were already there. The lancers had dismounted in order to rest their mounts. Some were squatting beneath the low brush, trying to stay within the scant shade it offered. Others were standing in groups of two or three talking. They looked up as he approached.

"So you couldn't catch him, eh?" he said as he rode up.

"No, Capitán," said one of the lancers, looking up at him. "He had a lead on us and we could not close fast enough in those hills. After we had ridden two miles, we came back here just as you ordered." The lancer was disappointed. It was plain to see he had been dreaming of the enormous reward for the capture of the masked outlaw. As had the others.

"Mount up, babosos," ordered Hidalgo. "Since you let Zorro escape, we might as well go back to the garrison."

"Sí, Capitán," said the soldier. He did not mention that it was the Capitán's orders which had kept them from trying harder to capture Zorro. The outlaw's horse was not that fast, and they had been gaining on him ever so slowly. A longer chase might have ended with quite different results.

Hidalgo didn't care what his soldiers thought as long as they obeyed his orders. He had carried out his part of Santiago's plans just as he had been instructed and he was pleased. He did not like being ruled by Santiago's orders, but there was nothing he could do about it when the man had all the evidence he needed to convict Hidalgo as a man of the Eagle hidden away somewhere. He had just exchanged one master for another. Ah, well. This master was not so crude as the other one had been. He was much more subtle. What the Magistrado's ultimate goals were, Hidalgo did not know, but he knew de la Vega's days were numbered once Santiago's plans were carried out. De la Vega was being set up for some reason and Hidalgo's testimony at the upcoming trial would be a crucial part of that set up. All he knew for certain was that Diego de la Vega would hang when the trial was over.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

It was late when Diego rode into town. He just had time to see to his horse, run up to his room to freshen up and change before coming back downstairs in time to meet Lozano and the men from the ship. He asked for a table in the corner of the inn where the four of them could meet and discuss their business in relative privacy. His room was just too small for such a meeting. The men soon arrived and greetings were exchanged. Lozano was cool and rather remote while the purser was almost ebullient in his greeting for Diego. He spoke Italian for some moments before Diego gently reminded him that Lozano did not speak the language and it was bad form to exclude him in their conversation.

"Quite right, young Señor, quite right!" the purser exclaimed. Bowing to Lozano, he apologized profusely. Lozano accepted.

"Now, Señor Purser, would you show Señor Lozano the document which you received from him?" asked Diego.

"Sí," said the purser, as he pulled out the paper.

After the mistake was pointed out and Lozano had gotten a good look at it, Diego said, "Señores. You all see this was an honest mistake. One that could have happened to anyone. The question is, what do we do about it?" The other three men looked at one another. Diego continued, "I propose we take the difference in the price of the goods and divide it in half. You, good Captain, will lower your asking price by one half of the difference and you, Señor Lozano, will raise your offer by one half of the difference. This compromise will allow both parties to complete the transfer of goods, and each party will still make a profit. What do you say?"

Lozano looked at the other two men and thought for a moment. Then he nodded his head. The purser looked at the captain who nodded once. "We accept," said the purser with a smile.

"Splendid," said Diego. "Let us order our supper while I draw up the agreement shall we? Once it has been signed, we can enjoy our meal together."

"Excellenté!" said the purser.

"Innkeeper," called Diego. "Pen and paper. And bring a bottle of your best wine."

Diego soon had an agreement written out, which was signed by both parties. The bottle of wine was quickly consumed and another one was ordered. With the stalemate broken, and profits assured for both sides, Lozano and his suppliers became quite friendly with each other before the night was ended. The meal was well received, especially by Diego who was famished. It was after midnight before Diego was able to crawl into bed. The ship's captain and the purser had told many long tales about their travels and it seemed that they would never leave. But Lozano insisted he had to rise early the next morning, and so he finally left. Diego let it be known he had a hard day's ride ahead of him as he was to return to Los Angeles the next day. Saying good night to his new friends, Diego was finally able to go to his room.

He was pleased by the resolution of Lozano's problem. It made up in some ways for his disappointment in not getting closer to the imposter. Diego would be glad to place his report of the resolution before the Magistrado when he returned to Los Angeles. All he wanted was for Santiago to say, "Well done, Diego." He wanted to please the Magistrado with his work. The Magistrado's approval meant a great deal to him. All the more, since he was finding it almost impossible to gain his father's approval . . . .

No. Diego would not complete that thought. He would just do the best job he was capable of doing. He blew out the candle in his room and lay in the darkness. His last conscious thoughts were about the imposter and what could be done about him, but he was tired from the long ride and the fact that he had gotten little sleep the night before. He was able to put things off by saying to himself he would think about them tomorrow. He fell asleep.

While Diego had been saying goodbye to the captain and the purser, Lozano had made his way to the garrison. Even though it was late, he was admitted to the Capitán's office. Hidalgo was in the process of pulling off his boots when Lozano came in.

"Well?" said Lozano. "Did everything go according to plan?"

Hidalgo gave out a guttural laugh as he pulled off the second boot. "Sí, Señor who worries too much. Everything went according to the plan. De la Vega rode out into the hills, Uresti actually showed up on time, and my lancers gave chase. De la Vega rode to the camp and looked around and I watched him from my hiding place. Then he rode back to Santa Barbara, as did I by a separate route. Oh, and Uresti managed not to get himself captured." Hidalgo laughed again.

"That is good to hear," said Lozano. "Señor Santiago will be pleased."

Leaning back in his chair with the boot in his hand, Hidalgo said, "Lozano, just what is it the Magistrado hopes to accomplish with all of this, . . . this chasing around after de la Vega and the false Zorro? I know I am to testify at de la Vega's trial, but for what reason? Can you not tell me why we are doing all of this?"

"Capitán Hidalgo," said Lozano. "You will just do what Señor Santiago wants you to do, when he wants you to do it. When this is over, you will be handsomely rewarded. Señor Santiago is not in the habit of telling everyone of his plans. I have had to tell this same thing to Uresti more than once. I trust I will not have to explain it to you again?"

"Oh, Sí," said Hidalgo throwing the boot in the corner of the room next to the other one, "You cannot blame me for asking, can you?" He shrugged. "All right then. What are my next instructions?"

"That's better," said Lozano. "Tomorrow morning, before de la Vega leaves for Los Angeles, I want you to confront him again concerning why he was in the hills. Do it in front of witnesses. Be hard on him, but do not let your temper run away from you to the point you find some reason to throw him in jail."

"Who me?" said Hidalgo. "Lose my temper? Me?" He laughed.

"You hear me well, Hidalgo. Just make sure the witnesses hear de la Vega admit to being in the hills where Zorro was sighted. That's all. Then you will let him continue to Los Angeles."

"Whatever you say," said Hidalgo. He shook his head. "It all seems like a lot of effort just to convict one man of conspiring with an outlaw, if you ask me. In the old days, it was a lot easier."

"Be that as it may, this is the way the Magistrado wants it done," said Lozano. "Do you have the written report ready for me? I will be taking it to the Magistrado myself."

Hidalgo reached over and pulled a folded piece of paper from the desk. "Here it is."

Lozano took it and read the contents. "Bueno," he said as he refolded the paper and put it in his jacket pocket. "When I return from Los Angeles, I will bring you further instructions. Be sure you do not accidentally let your lancers capture Zorro. He will be making a few more raids around Santa Barbara before he moves down to Los Angeles in a couple of days."

"Right," said Hidalgo. "I'll keep Uresti out of jail. He had just better make sure he doesn't get himself shot. Some of my lancers are pretty good with a rifle."

Hidalgo laughed to himself as Lozano frowned. Without further words, Lozano turned and left the office.


	23. B1 Ch22: Eyes of Doubt

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 22 – _Eyes of Doubt_**

The next morning, Diego was awakened early by the innkeeper and he prepared to return to Los Angeles. Taking his saddlebags with him, he sat down for a quick breakfast while the same little boy ran to fetch his horse. There were a few other people in the inn having breakfast as well. Before he was finished, Señor Lozano also came in to get a bite to eat. Diego greeted him cordially and they spoke for a few moments about the weather and the long road back to Los Angeles, which Lozano traveled quite frequently due to his businesses. Lozano complimented him once again on the way he handled the trade goods problem and said that he would speak highly of Diego to the Magistrado. Diego was honored.

Lozano excused himself and was seated at a table to eat his food while Diego went to settle his bill with the innkeeper. Diego was startled when the door to the inn opened with a bang and Capitán Hidalgo stalked in. Everyone's attention was centered on the soldier.

"Señor de la Vega," Hidalgo said in a rather loud voice. "I would speak with you."

Not knowing what this was all about, Diego said, "Sí, Capitán. I am at your service."

Hidalgo came over until he was in front of Diego. "I wish to hear again why you went riding into the hills yesterday."

Diego was puzzled. They had covered that ground the last time they had met. "As I said, Capitán, I was just riding for pleasure. I have not seen the country hereabouts and I thought I would look around."

"What do you know of the bandit, Zorro, whom I and my lancers saw with you and whom they chased for miles before they lost him in the hills?" Hidalgo asked, his eyes boring into Diego's.

Diego returned the Capitán's looks while he thought furiously. Something was not right here. "First, I must tell you again," he said levelly. "I did not have any contact with Zorro. I had only become aware of his presence moments before you and your soldiers rode up. Secondly, what I know of Zorro is what everyone knows of him who lives in Los Angeles."

"Sí, that is where he is from originally, is it not? The same pueblo where you come from."

Diego felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. Was Hidalgo making some sort of connection between him and Zorro? "Sí, he was first seen in Los Angeles," Diego said as non-commitally as possible.

"And now you are here at the same time he is. How interesting," said Hidalgo, narrowing his eyes.

Diego wished to dispel any notion connecting him and the masked rider. "Mere coincidence, Capitán, I assure you," he said levelly. "Señor Santiago, the Magistrado for this district, sent me here to negotiate a settlement between two parties in his stead. I am only here at his direction. I have no other business here."

Hidalgo regarded him for a long moment. Then he said, "Everything may be as you say, Señor de la Vega. But know this. The outlaw Zorro raided another rancho last night and stole all their money and what few pitiful valuables that they had." Diego heard the intake of breath from all the other people in the room. "The peons swear that Zorro asked them to join his army and when they would not, he robbed them and burned down their homes. If it turns out that you had anything to do with that outlaw, I will put you in my jail myself," growled Hidalgo. "Never let me catch you near him again."

Diego's blood was up. He was dismayed by the report of the peons being burned out and robbed. And he did not like being threatened. "May I remind you, Capitán Hidalgo, as I have once already, that I am a duly sworn officer in His Majesty's government?" he said, clamping down on his emotions with iron control. "It is my duty as well as yours to investigate sightings of this Zorro. Therefore, you will not threaten me in this manner."

"Why you spoiled son of a rich man, . . ." began Hidalgo, clenching his fists, his eyes blazing in anger. Then he seemed to gain control of himself through a great effort. "Your pardon, Señor de la Vega," he said in a deceptively mild tone which did not deceive Diego in the least, "Please excuse my ill manners. I am but a soldier of the line, Señor, and my words are my actions. If Zorro is recruiting an army in the hills, it is my duty to stop it. And I will let nothing stand in my way, not even minor functionaries in His Majesty's government." With a sneer in his voice, Hidalgo said, "Con permisso?" as he turned without waiting for an answer and walked out of the inn, almost slamming the door behind him.

No one in the inn moved for several moments after the door closed behind the Capitán. Then Diego became aware that all eyes were on him. He could see doubts in those eyes. Why was this young man seen in the company of Zorro, they were asking themselves. Then Diego's eyes met Lozano's. He saw the same question mirrored there. Inwardly, Diego was becoming more angry. But he must maintain control. Deciding to return to the Diego he was trying to leave behind, Diego laughed self-depreciatingly and said, "It seems our good Capitán has mistaken notions about me, Señor Lozano. Don't you agree? Why would I want to join Zorro, living in the bare hills, when I can sleep in nice comfortable inns such as this one, or in a nice bed in my home in Los Angeles? I have no need for what Zorro may wish to offer. My only desire is to see that "Justice is served," just as the Magistrado is fond of saying. He and I are in full agreement on this matter." Diego was relieved to see that some of the people's eyes had softened towards him, but he knew he had not convinced them all.

Señor Lozano came over to him then and said, "I know you had nothing to do with that outlaw, Señor de la Vega. Return to Los Angeles, and Capitán Hidalgo will soon forget his outburst. He speaks loudly, but has a short memory. He will be too busy scouring the hills for Zorro to think about you. I know him. I have lived here for several years, as you know."

Gratified that at least one person was on his side, Diego said his goodbyes and left the inn. He gathered up the reins of his palomino from the boy who had brought the gelding around. He looked at the garrison, thinking about Hidalgo, and found himself growing angry all over again. He felt a tug at his sleeve and looked down. The young boy was looking up at him hopefully. Realizing what the boy wanted, Diego smiled down at him and tossed him another coin. The boy smiled and ran off. Diego looked up again and this time his eyes found the bell tower of the church. That reminded him of a promise he had made. Taking a moment, he wrote something on a piece of paper which he folded up and put in his pocket. Then he mounted his horse and rode to the church. Once there, he went inside and went all the way down to the altar rail to pray. After a time, he crossed himself and left the church. He got on his horse and started home on the road to Los Angeles.

A little while later, the priest came into the church and went to tend to the candles at the altar. As he approached the front of the church, he noticed a leather purse balanced on the altar rail, heavy with money, and a note which read, "Padre, please see that the poor people who were robbed by that false Zorro get this money. I trust you to make sure the money goes where it is needed." The note was unsigned. The priest looked around as though he might see the person who had left this gift, but there was no one in the church. Thanking God on behalf of the peons who had been robbed, the priest knelt and asked a special blessing for their anonymous benefactor.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

The ride back to Los Angeles was a long one, made longer by the constant thoughts of the imposter raiding innocent people in Santa Barbara. Diego would have ridden back into the hills above Santa Barbara to search for the man himself except he had already been questioned by the Magistrado once for being tardy when returning from an assignment, and he did not wish to disappoint Señor Santiago once again. Also, he did not wish to run into Hidalgo or one of his patrols again. Hidalgo seemed to be forming the opinion that Diego had something to do with the masked raider and Diego did not wish to add fuel to that fire. But he chafed at the restrictions, nevertheless. How he wanted to go home, don his own black clothing, leap astride Tornado, and search out this false Zorro for himself. There would soon be an end to his masquerade and his treachery.

Diego sighed. He had embarked on a new path, one that would not allow him the freedom to become the real Zorro and spend however much time was necessary to track down the imposter. He knew the Magistrado would do what he could with the military to try and capture or kill the outlaw, but Diego also knew how limited that option was considering how many times he, himself, had outwitted and had outridden his pursuers as Zorro. Diego was also somewhat limited in the advice which he could offer to Santiago. Those things he might say that would be truly useful would lead to more questions than he could answer. He was supposed to be Diego, scholarly son of Alejandro de la Vega, full of book knowledge, but knowing little of practical value, as in how to capture outlaws, for instance. He was steadily leaving that image behind, but it would still be a long time before that image could be entirely laid to rest. This crisis had come too quickly for Diego to be other than what people still expected him to be. He knew Señor Santiago was too astute not to miss the discrepancy between what Diego was supposed to know and what he might say about how to capture Zorro. Try as he might, Diego could see no resolution to the problem. The only thing he could do at the moment was to watch and wait and depend upon Bernardo to aid him as well as he could.


	24. B1 Ch23: In a Box

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 23 – _In a Box_**

Diego returned to Los Angeles and reported in to the Magistrado. There was a bright spot in all of his worries, for Señor Santiago was quite pleased at the way Diego had handled the case for Señor Lozano.

"Well done, Diego, well done," said Santiago, as they sat in his office. "It was quite clever to have spotted that discrepancy in the number seven and the number nine on the contract. I take it both parties were satisfied?" Santiago had not really cared how the case was to be resolved when he had assigned it to Diego. It was just a ruse to manipulate the young don into going to Santa Barbara. He was mildly surprised at how well Diego had handled the case. It would seem the young man was indeed able to think well on his feet.

"Sí, Your Excellency," said Diego smiling. "Both parties were able to claim a profit when the transaction was completed rather than possibly taking a loss by selling their goods elsewhere."

"I am pleased," said Santiago, returning his smile. "You know Señor Lozano has become quite an important businessman in the district. It will be him and men like him who take the products which this land has to offer to trade with the mother country and her allies so that California will prosper. Maintaining good relations between the merchants and the shipping companies is vital to that effort. Your work has maintained that relationship."

"Graciás, Your Excellency," said Diego. He was warmed by Santiago's words. For a moment, the false Zorro and his problems faded into the background. Here was something he had been able to accomplish as Diego de la Vega and he was proud of it. He only wished he could tell his father of his work. He longed to have Don Alejandro say "Well done," just as Santiago had. "I wish my father . . .," he began, then stopped himself.

"Wish what, Diego?" Santiago inquired.

Somewhat embarrassed, Diego said, "It was nothing, Your Excellency."

Santiago looked at him for a moment, and then said, "Ah, I see. You would like for your father to know of your accomplishment. You would like to have his approval as well?" Diego did not answer, but Santiago could see the hunger in the young man's eyes. "I wish that I could help you Diego, but as I have told you before, our work is confidential and you must respect this."

"Oh, I do, Your Excellency," Diego said, earnestly. "You may rely on me completely."

"I know that, my young assistant. You have proved your discretion many times," said Santiago, with a smile. "But I do understand your desires. It is only natural. Have patience. Your father will come to know just what kind of son he has with the passage of time." Santiago was rather enjoying the wry, double meaning of his words. Yes, old Alejandro would soon come to know just what kind of son he had. A low and traitorous conspirator. Santiago's smile widened.

Diego returned the smile though he was still disappointed that he could not talk of his work with his father. He still wanted to earn his father's respect. Well, that would come in time, just as the Magistrado said it would, Diego promised himself. For now, he would just enjoy the complete confidence of the Magistrado. He was also proud of the part he was playing in the larger picture of California's future. He shared the Magistrado's vision of a prosperous California. For now, this would have to be enough.

In the following days, Santiago did not give Diego any further field assignments. Instead, he kept Diego in Los Angeles where they spent most of their time covering the law concerning the succession of land grants from the King, which interested Diego greatly considering that the de la Vega land was a product of just such a grant. Santiago too, was very interested in the land grants, seeing as how he would someday control all of the land hereabouts. It was well to know as much as possible about the legal owners of the land when the time came to buy it from them as they fled in terror before the armies of Zorro. He had to suppress a smile from time to time as he thought upon the subject. He did not want Diego to wonder at seeing him smile, not that he couldn't handle the younger man. As he looked at Diego, he still saw a young man eager to learn and do well in the job which he had been given. Diego would go where Santiago wished him to go and perform those tasks which were set before him. He did respect the young man's intellect, however naive it might appear, and so remained quite careful when he was with him.

However, Santiago failed to see the worry in the back of Diego's eyes which the raids of the false Zorro were causing. He saw only what Diego wanted him to see. This was, in part, due to the effort Diego made to not let that knowledge come between him and his job. He tried to suppress all thoughts about the false Zorro when he was on official business for the Magistrado and especially when he was around Santiago for any length of time. But at night, when he was alone with Bernardo, or when he was truly alone in his room, he could think of almost nothing else. Bernardo had remarked how the lines around Diego's eyes were returning as his young master was losing sleep over the problem. Diego acknowledge the problem with a shrug. There did not seem to be anything he could do about it. As long as the imposter remained in the vicinity of Santa Barbara, riding out in the night to search for him was out of the question. It was just too far to ride there and back in one night. He must be present at the Magistrado's office bright and early each morning, and there was just not enough time to search for the imposter in the night hours. That did not keep Diego from burning with the desire to go, however.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

One day passed, then another, and Santiago knew Uresti would be moving into the Los Angeles area if he kept to the schedule. Reports of Zorro being sighted here and there should begin to trickle in soon. Santiago could almost taste victory now. But the most exciting part of the plan was yet to come: the trial which would convict Diego de la Vega as a traitor, the results of which would then be the catalyst to prize the de la Vega lands from the fingers of the old don. Santiago almost had all the points of the trial catalogued even now. But he schooled himself to patience. Haste was the refuge of the fool and he was not a fool.

The first report came to Santiago when he and Diego were eating lunch at the tavern. Sergeant Garcia burst into the tavern and headed straight for the Magistrado's table. He snapped to attention and saluted, holding the pose as he waited to be acknowledged. Diego noted that the Sergeant's jacket was not straining nearly so hard to cover the larger man's girth. As a matter of fact, there was a decided amount of room in that jacket. He smiled.

"Yes, Sergeant?" said Santiago.

"Your pardon, Excellency, but I beg to report that Zorro was seen by several Indians at the San Gabriel mission," said Garcia with excitement. Everyone in the tavern stopped what they were doing to listen. Despite his control, Diego's heart began to race. He did not let his consternation reach his face, however.

"Zorro?" said Santiago. "When was this, Sergeant?"

"Just this morning. Not more than an hour ago. They saw him riding along the hills east of the mission," said Garcia.

"Was anyone else with him?"

"They did not say there was anyone else, Your Excellency." Garcia paused. "Does Your Excellency wish a patrol to be sent to search for Zorro?" he asked.

"At once, Sergeant. You will search all the countryside around the mission for any sign of Zorro," Santiago ordered. "If you find him, you will send one lancer back to the cuartel to alert the rest of the soldiers and then you will pursue him. With the additional lancers from the cuartel joining you, you should soon capture him."

Garcia's face lit up. "Sí, Your Excellency. We will go at once." Saluting once again, Garcia turned on his heel and headed out the door.

Santiago turned back to Diego. "So, the elusive Fox has returned to Los Angeles," he said as he picked up his wine glass. "Capitán Hidalgo must have been getting too close to him in Santa Barbara, causing him to move here. What do you think, Diego?"

Diego leaned forward a bit. "I do not know, Your Excellency, but I certainly hope the Sergeant has the opportunity to capture the man." If Garcia was indeed fortunate enough to capture the impostor, the raids and the robberies would stop, thought Diego. This would leave him with only the prickly problem of redeeming Zorro's reputation. He was sure he would be able to find a way to show that the man wearing the mask was not the real Zorro. They would find out who he was and where he came from. Then it would be seen that he could not possibly be the same man as the real Zorro. But how do you redeem the reputation of an outlaw, even one such as the real Zorro? He was brought up short in his thoughts by Santiago's next words.

"Why, Diego, this is quite a departure from your previous stand which you made here in this very tavern not so long ago," said Santiago, enjoying Diego's obvious discomfiture at his words. Tío was watching them from behind his bar as he wiped the counter. He had been present then as well. "I believe you said at the time that you would prefer that Zorro was never captured. Am I right?" He could see that Diego would rather not have been asked that question, but he was going to be compelled to answer. From the corner of his eye, Santiago noticed Tío nodding his head as he agreed with the Magistrado's statements. Yes, the innkeeper remembered.

Diego was faced with a dilemma. He had never put forth the idea to the Magistrado that the man now known as Zorro was an imposter. To do so now could be dangerous. It might even be interpreted as a defense of the outlaw in some eyes. Santiago might start asking questions as to how he knew that this Zorro was an imposter. Questions he could not answer truthfully. And not being able to speak the truth to the Magistrado was almost as painful as not being able to speak the truth to his father. He very much admired Santiago as a man of honor and he wanted to maintain his own honor before his mentor. So he tried to walk the thin line of truth as closely as he dared. "Sí, Your Excellency, that is what I said. But that was before . . . ."

Santiago interrupted him. "That was before he started raiding innocent peons, eh? Before he started forming his armies? You see now just what kind of man he really is." Seeing the look on Diego's face, he said, "I do not mean to be so hard on you Diego. But in order for me to do my job to the best of my abilities, I must keep a clear view of those I am sworn to apprehend when they are a danger to California and her people. Under my administration, 'Justice will be served.'" This last was said with firmness and determination.

Diego's heart ached. He was proud to serve with this man, a man after his own heart in the matters of justice. Santiago had won his loyalty with his steadfast pursuit of justice tempered with compassion. But just as there were things in his life that he could not tell his father, there were things he would have to withhold from the Magistrado, as painful as that might be. But surely he was clever enough to plant the seed. The seed that would grow into the idea that this Zorro was an imposter. Something that Santiago, being the intelligent man he was, would see for the truth? Diego thought furiously. Finally, he said, "I do not know who this man is who now wears the mask, Your Excellency. Señorita Justice does not call his name as she calls yours and mine. The man we previously observed here in this pueblo as Zorro had always had a higher purpose. He only wanted what was best for California."

"Come now, Diego. You speak as if there are two men called Zorro," said Santiago, picking up on Diego's words as the young man knew he would. But his next comments did nothing to assure Diego that he would pursue that thought. "No, Diego. We will capture this outlaw and you will see what manner of man he is. I am sorry if you cannot continue to indulge your romantic notions about him. He is a danger to all California and he must be brought to justice and that swiftly."

Diego could not but agree with the Magistrado's words as far as they went towards the character of this present, false Zorro. "Sí, Your Excellency," he said. Diego knew it was more imperative than ever that the imposter be found. Tonight, despite the danger, he would search for the imposter himself if Sergeant Garcia failed to capture him.

The afternoon drew to a close as Diego and Santiago worked on the weekly report for the governor in the Magistrado's office. Their attention was drawn to the sound of horses in the plaza, and they went out onto the balcony to see who was there. It was Sergeant Garcia and his lancers. Their horses were spent. Santiago hailed them.

"Hola! Sergeant Garcia!" he called from the balcony.

Garcia pulled up and the lancers bunched behind him. The Sergeant looked up and said, "Sí, Magistrado?"

"What have you found?" asked Santiago.

"We have found dust and empty hills, Magistrado," returned Sergeant Garcia. "Zorro has vanished again. We searched all the hills around the mission and questioned everyone, but no one other than the Indians who made the first report have seen anything. They have seen nothing since this morning."

"Curious," muttered Santiago to himself as though he was thinking. Then, "All right, Sergeant. Take care of your men and horses. I will speak with you later."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Garcia, who then motioned for his men to follow him to the cuartel.

"Could the Indians have been mistaken?" Diego asked, when they had returned to Santiago's office.

"I do not know, Diego," said Santiago. "But I intend to ride out with the patrol at the next report. I think the Sergeant needs help in tracking down this outlaw. Surely, he cannot be that hard to find if he is in the area."

Diego opened his mouth to say just how well Zorro could lose himself in the hills and thus avoid capture, when he closed it again. It seemed that any time he spoke of Zorro to the Magistrado, things did not come out the way he intended them. The Magistrado turned his words around and put him in corners he did not like. So he kept his silence. But this increased his frustration. He could not speak of Zorro with his own father, nor could he speak of Zorro with the Magistrado. He could not speak of Zorro, the real one or the imposter, to anyone but Bernardo. And Bernardo already knew his heart.


	25. B1 Ch24: Stirrings in the Night

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 24 – _Stirrings in the Night_**

When Diego was finally able to return home, he carefully avoided letting his father see him and gathered Bernardo in his wake as they went up to his room. Bernardo sensed the urgency in his master's summons. "Bernardo, tonight we are going to search for the imposter ourselves," Diego said without preamble. Bernardo looked a question as if to say, "What is this all about?" Diego replied, "Zorro was seen near the mission today by some Indians. Sergeant Garcia's patrols have turned up nothing. If the imposter has returned here to Los Angeles, I want to find him before he can hurt anyone else." To Bernardo's swish, swish, swish of the letter "Z", Diego shook his head. Bernardo was puzzled. "No, Bernardo. I will not go as Zorro. If someone sees me as Zorro it will only add fuel to the fire. There will be more reports of Zorro being sighted which will only serve to confuse the Magistrado and he must have accurate information if this imposter is to be caught. No, I will go as myself and you will accompany me. People might find it strange for me to be riding in the night, but they will not be alarmed and report it to the Magistrado as they would do if I were seen as Zorro." Bernardo nodded his understanding. "Good. Now get me my suede riding clothes and go saddle your horse. I will be down in a few minutes. We will need all the daylight we have left to pick up any trail before dark."

Again avoiding his father, Diego slipped down to the stables and found Bernardo waiting for him. They mounted and rode out of the back courtyard and headed toward the mission. The ride was a long one and they pushed their horses hard. Diego knew what he was searching for, and once they arrived at the mission, they rode in a large circle around the site. On his second circuit around the mission, he found it. Stopping his horse, he got down and knelt on one knee as he studied the ground. Bernardo joined him.

"Look, Bernardo. Here it is. This is what I have been looking for. See this track? This horseshoe with a moon-shaped piece missing? This shoe belongs to the one who is impersonating Zorro. I saw it at his camp in Santa Barbara." Bernardo nodded and then pointed in the direction of the tracks. "Sí, let us follow them and see where they lead," said Diego. Both men mounted and started following the tracks. The sun was setting fast and soon there was no light to see the tracks. Diego pulled up. "We will continue in this general direction," he said. "If he kept going this way, he will end up in the hills just north of here. There are many good hiding places in those hills. Come." Diego urged his horse onward and Bernardo followed.

Bernardo did not relish riding into the dark over unfamiliar ground, but he would not let Diego go alone. As he was still confined to the role of Diego de la Vega, pacifist, his master was unarmed. However, Bernardo had a loaded pistol in his saddlebags just in case. He was no pacifist where his master's safety was concerned. Along with the pistol, there was some food in the saddlebags which now he brought out. He knew Diego had had nothing to eat for several hours. He was rewarded by Diego's smile of delight, which he could just make out in the darkness as he handed the food to his young master.

"Bernardo, you are a prince among servants," said Diego as he swallowed his first bite. Bernardo smiled. Then he joined in, eating his own food. They passed the canteen back and forth between them.

At last the moon rose, casting its pale light upon the land. Diego told Bernardo to stop and then rode his horse back and forth in a long arc trying to pick up any tracks. There were none. Frustrated, Diego rode back to Bernardo. "We have lost his trail. I do not know if he kept on in this direction or not." Diego looked back the way they had come. "I wonder if we should back track and try to pick up his trail again now the moon is up, or should we just continue into the hills, hoping to find something?" Bernardo shrugged his shoulders to show he did not know what to say. Finally, Diego said, "We have come all this way. I think we should ride into the hills ahead and search there. We have several hours of night left to us and we can cover a great deal of ground before we must return to the hacienda." Bernardo nodded and they urged their horses on.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

In the pueblo, as evening fell, Gracilia was lying motionless on her bed, quietly gazing out of her window. It seemed that her nights and days were turned around, and she spent more time awake in the darkness than in the light of day. She had given Pippa permission to go to the church for evening services, saying that she would be all right. There was a small bell she could ring to call the other servant should she need anything. Lying there, Gracilia could see the moonbeams shining through the trees just outside her bedroom window. Her mind was captivated by them. She felt almost as though she could reach out and touch them, feather light though they were. They were lovely, slowly shifting positions as the moon rose in the night sky. Her hearing was acute this night as it sometimes was, and she could hear quite clearly the crickets and the night birds in the far off thickets. She was comforted by those sounds, sounds so familiar to her from her childhood.

She had let fall from her mind the words which she had overheard from the strangers in her house a few days ago. It was more than she wished to remember, and so she let them slip away. Nothing like that mattered to her anymore. She only lived for the here and now. And for now, she only wished to watch the little moonbeams dance in the night.

Outside, in the darkness, Lozano waited for the Magistrado to return home. He had himself only arrived in Los Angeles after the sun had set. He waited near the back of the Magistrado's house, out of sight. He knew from speaking to Santiago's manservant, whom he had met in the plaza, that Santiago had been invited to the hacienda of one of the dons for a dinner from which he could not excuse himself, but he was due back at any moment. Lozano knew Santiago would have further instructions for him concerning Santa Barbara and Diego de la Vega. Lozano also had Hidalgo's reports, as well as his own, to give to the Magistrado. He rubbed his stomach, wishing that he had taken the time to get something to eat himself. But he could eat later. Right now it was more important to be where Santiago wished him to be. He leaned up against the house and he, too, watched the moonbeams as he waited.

After perhaps a quarter of an hour had passed, he heard a horse cantering along the road entering the plaza. As he expected, it was the Magistrado. He waited while Santiago rode up to the stables behind the house and tied his horse in the stall. He did not call out to Santiago, but merely stood away from the wall of the house a step or two so that Santiago could see him. Santiago walked over, his left hand resting characteristically on the hilt of his sword.

"Buenas noches, Magistrado," Lozano said, bowing.

"Lozano," said Santiago in acknowledgment.

Inside the house, Gracilia started as she heard the voices so near her bedroom window. "No," she thought. "No, I do not want to hear anything. Please, let them go away." She recognized the name of one of the men who had come to her home before. She wanted nothing more to do with them. But she was trapped in her own bed, unable to leave.

"Anyone see you?" asked Santiago in a low voice.

"No, Your Excellency," said Lozano, replying in kind. "No one."

"Good," said Santiago, continuing to speak in low tones. "Do you have Hidalgo's reports?"

"Sí, Magistrado, and mine as well," said Lozano, handing the papers over to Santiago. Gracilia could hear them rustle gently.

"I will read them later, but you can tell me the essential details now," said Santiago. "And I do not need to know how the case between you and the ship's purser was resolved. I have had a full report on that already."

Lozano realized de la Vega would have reported that to the Magistrado. "Everything went as you wished, Magistrado," he said. "Tomaso played his role adequately and Hidalgo was there to witness the meeting between him and de la Vega. Hidalgo found de la Vega in the hills the next day, where Zorro was sighted and chased. The Capitán also confronted de la Vega before witnesses in the inn concerning why he was in the same place as Zorro. I was a witness to de la Vega's answers." Lozano paused. "Magistrado, I must say I am worried about Tomaso. He is just too nervous. I am afraid he will make young de la Vega suspicious if they meet again as you say they must."

Inside the bedroom, Gracilia's hearing took on a new dimension when she had heard Diego's name once more. Despite her desire to be left out of this, she continued to listen. She could not help herself.

In a more menacing tone, Santiago said, "I am relying on you, Lozano, to make sure Tomaso carries out his part of the plan. You will speak to him again and he had better perform well."

"Sí, Magistrado," was Lozano's quick answer to the implied threat. Changing the subject, Lozano said, "After de la Vega's departure, I did as you ordered. I talked to many people in Santa Barbara and played up de la Vega's meeting with Zorro, causing them to wonder just what connection he might have with the outlaw. They talk of nothing else now."

"Excellent," said Santiago. "It sounds like all my instructions were carried out. That is good. Now listen. Diego de la Vega will be returning to Santa Barbara in three days. Capitán Hidalgo is ready to arrest Tomaso and place him in jail before then?" At Lozano's nod, Santiago said, "Good. That will be the reason I will give to send Diego to Santa Barbara. He will be assigned to interrogate the prisoner there. Meanwhile, the reports of Zorro being sighted in and around Los Angeles have been trickling in for a day or so just as they should."

"Sí," said Lozano. "Uresti is a good Zorro. His head is hard, but he knows he must do as you ask. I think he begins to relish his role as the masked raider."

Santiago said, "See that he does not overplay his part, Lozano. He must do exactly what I wish him to do and no more or he will upset my carefully laid plans. He must kidnap a child from one of the dons here in Los Angeles before he moves back to Santa Barbara, but I do not wish for the general population to call upon the Governor for assistance. I must still be seen as the man who will be the people's protector. They must look to me, not to the Governor. I must maintain control over the situation. After the child is taken, Uresti will return to Santa Barbara and it is there where the trap for de la Vega will be sprung."

"May I ask which child will be taken, Magistrado?" asked Lozano.

"One of Don Alfredo's children," said Santiago. Lozano nodded. Santiago continued, "That timid don will be ready to pay any ransom or follow any demand Uresti, as Zorro, may make in order to get his child back. If Tomaso does what he is supposed to do and Uresti and Hidalgo do what they are to do, then the arrest of Diego de la Vega is assured. They each have their scripts to follow and here they are." There was the rustle of papers once again. "You will see each man reads his assignment and understands what he is to do. Then you will burn these."

"Sí, Magistrado," was Lozano's quick reply.

"When this is played out, we will have both Capitán Hidalgo and Don Alfredo as unimpeachable witnesses that Diego de la Vega is a traitor. Witnesses I need for the trial."

"Trial?" thought Gracilia, listening in her room. What trial? Diego a traitor? No, that was not possible.

Santiago continued. "We shall soon have young de la Vega so wrapped up in the conspiracy that there will be no escape. The trial will be swift and sure," said Santiago. "There will be a hanging."

Lozano ventured a question which had been bothering him. "But what of Alejandro de la Vega, Your Excellency? He is a powerful man. Will he believe such evidence that his son is involved in treason? He has the Governor's ear, and if he chooses to fight the charges, he might well have them dismissed."

"Lozano, there was once a time when you did not question me," said Santiago. Lozano swallowed hard as his blood suddenly chilled in his veins. "But, you have asked the basic question which must be asked. What will convince even Alejandro de la Vega that his son is a traitor?" Santiago paused to let Lozano think. When he did not answer, as he knew he could not, Santiago laughed gently. "Why, my dear Lozano, it will be when the perfectly honorable Magistrado for the pueblo of Los Angeles, whom everyone knows is a man above reproach, brings the charges against the younger de la Vega. If I believe the charges, charges against a man in my own office, why would anyone doubt me? And further, it will be when the son himself proves that he is in league with the traitorous Zorro by his very silence against those charges."

Lozano said, "I do not understand."

"Do not worry yourself about it," said Santiago. "Just carry out the next part of my plan as we agreed. In time, all will become clear to you. Before the snows fly in the Sierras, we shall see Diego de la Vega dead by the force of law and I will be well on my way to begin my acquisition of the lands of California, starting with the rancho of Alejandro de la Vega. Now you must go. You will return to Santa Barbara tomorrow and make sure everything is ready. You will check everything twice over."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Lozano.

"And Lozano?"

"Sí, Magistrado?"

"Do not fail me."

"Sí, Magistrado."

Lying there in her bed, Gracilia could hear someone walking away from the house. Then she heard someone enter the house from the rear. She was sure it was Jorgé. She closed her eyes just before he came to the door of her room and she pretended to be asleep though her heart was beating a tattoo in her breast. She was grateful that it was dark in her room. Jorgé did not linger long and soon his footsteps receded as he went to his room. Gracilia opened her eyes again and stared at the door. There could be no doubt as to what she had heard this night. Her husband was conspiring to have Diego de la Vega charged with treason and to have him hanged. And for what? To acquire some land? This did not make sense to her. Jorgé was not a poor man. If he wanted to buy some land, he had the means. But how had he said it? " . . . to begin my acquisition of the lands of California." It sounded like Jorgé did not want some land for himself, he wanted a great deal of land for himself. He wanted the de la Vega's lands and more. And somehow, convicting Diego de la Vega for treason would make that happen. The memories of Uresti and Lozano in her house came flooding back, though she had tried to forget them. Diego was in danger and he must be warned, but how? She could not go to him and he certainly could not come to the house to see her.

A note. She would write him a note and have Pippa take it to him. There was a small desk on the other side of the room, near the window, with paper, pen and ink. There was still enough moonlight by which to see. Despite what it would cost her in searing pain, Gracilia resolved to make the effort to get to the desk. She would do nothing like this for herself; she was finished, but she could not let an innocent man be hanged. Nor would she allow a child to be kidnapped by the man who owned the hard voice she had heard in her own home. Uresti. That was his name. Not if she could help it. She owed Jorgé nothing. If he was cold enough to plan the deliberate death of an innocent for the gain of personal wealth, then he deserved no loyalty, not even the loyalty of their holy marriage vows. She had no weapon with which to fight her husband but that pen on her desk. She must get to it now.

Slowly, she sat up on the bed. Her heart was beating so hard she thought she might faint, both from fear of her husband and from her exertions. The ever present pain she experienced rose to meet her and she almost slipped back onto her pillows. She bit her lip in order to keep from making any sound. Her eyes fell upon the bottle of laudanum on her bedside table. She knew that if she took some of the liquid, it would numb the pain, but it could also send her into a deep sleep. If she did not take it, however, she would never reach the desk. She thought for a moment and then reached with trembling fingers for the bottle. She would take just half of the dose which the doctor prescribed for her. Perhaps it would be sufficient to numb the pain long enough for her to do what she must.

Pulling out the glass stopper, she put the bottle to her lips and drank some of the foul medicine. She coughed a little as it went down her throat. The glass stopper tinkled against the bottle as she replaced it. It sounded very loud to her ears, and she was afraid that Jorgé would hear it. But there was no sound in the rest of the house. Carefully replacing the bottle on the table, Gracilia waited for a few moments and then tried to stand. She had to hold on to the bedpost for support until she was certain her legs would carry her. Moaning beneath her breath at the pain every step caused her, she slowly made her way to the desk, letting go of the bedpost just in time to grab the back of the chair at the desk. She sank into the chair as her legs gave way and leaned forward to rest her head on her arms as she crossed them on the desktop. Her breathing was labored and tears coursed down her cheeks from the pain.

How long she stayed like this she did not know, but she came to realize that she had to do what she had come to do or she would lose her chance. She sat up and tried to focus on the desk before her. She found some paper and the pen. The inkwell defeated her efforts to open it for a few moments, but then she had it open. Now, what to say. What do you say to the man your husband has marked for the death of the gallows? _"Diego,"_ she wrote with a trembling hand. The pen's scratching sounds on the paper put her teeth on edge. _"You are in danger. My husband means to charge you with treason. Do not go to Santa Barbara. Stay away from Zorro. Lozano is in league with Jorgé. Watch out for him. Warn Don Alfredo. Protect his child from Uresti-Zorro. I overheard them talking. They want you dead. Jorgé will destroy your father's soul. Jorgé wants all the land. Your father's land. All the land of California. Be careful, Diego, be careful. You are in danger..."_

Gracilia's pen left a long streak on the paper as her hand seemed to move of its own volition, not entirely under her control. She tried to focus on what she had written. Shaking her head, trying to clear it, she decided it would have to do. She could only hope that she had written enough to alert Diego to the danger he was in. She did not have the strength to blow on the paper or to blot it, so she just sat there a moment. Finally, it came to her to sign her name and she did so, slowly and painfully. It was shaky and crooked, and she found herself staring at her signature. _I used to have such a pretty handwriting_ , she thought to herself. What if Diego did not think this was her signature? Would he believe what she had written? Panicked, Gracilia did not know what to do. Then a thought came to her and beneath her name she scratched out, _"burro's confession."_ Diego would have to know the note came from her. The burro's story was something which they both shared.

Slowly, she folded the paper and pressed the creases. She had to blink her eyes and roll them a few times in order to be able to continue to focus on the note. The medicine was starting to send her into oblivion. She took the pen again and wrote Diego's name on the outside of the note, or at least she thought she did. She wasn't sure. The only thing she was sure about was that she must return to her bed. Clutching the note in her hand, she rose and clung to the back of the chair, swaying. The bedpost seemed so far away. She reached out with her hand and fell forward, just managing to grab the bedpost. She was crying now. Crying from the pain and crying against her condition. It was so unfair, this illness which robbed her of the life which should have been hers. Grimly, she struggled on. Just as she reached the side of the bed, she heard voices in the back of the house. She froze. It was Pippa. And Jorgé. They were talking together. Jorgé mustn't find the note. He mustn't. She could hear the two of them coming toward her room.

With the last of her remaining strength, she clawed at the bed, trying to reach her pillows. Her hand slipped the note beneath the pillows just as Pippa came into the room. Gracilia slid to the floor beside her bed in exhaustion. She had done all she could. She could not even find enough strength to pray that Jorgé would not find the note. She could only hope that heaven would understand her needs without spoken words.

"Señor Santiago!" exclaimed Pippa, running toward her mistress. "Please help!" Santiago was there in a moment and picked Gracilia up off of the floor, placing her in the bed. He adjusted the pillows beneath her head as Pippa pulled up the blanket to cover her. Gracilia moaned.

"What was she doing out of bed?" demanded Santiago.

"I . . .I do not know, Señor Santiago. I have just returned from the church, as you know," said Pippa, fearfully.

"Go and fetch that useless doctor," ordered Santiago. "Have him take care of her. Never let me find her unattended like this again. Now go!"

Pippa fled.

Santiago looked down upon his wife. She appeared to be delirious; out of her mind. She moaned and shuddered and seemed to be trying to speak. But nothing she said was intelligible. Santiago's dark eyes were unfathomable, his features chiseled in cold stone. "Die, will you?" he said to her, his voice deadly quiet. "Please, . . . die." But Gracilia did not hear him.

Santiago shook his head as he gazed down upon her. Sighing, he looked around the room. It was such a dismal place. His house was such a dismal house. He wanted life in his house. A lively and spirited wife to hold. Energetic children to carry on his name. Men of substance and wealth who would come to him, seeking his favor. But no. He was burdened down with this worthless shell of a woman. Would that he could be rid of her.

His thoughts were interrupted as the doctor came in with Pippa. Avila had come without even stopping to put on his coat. Santiago stood back as the doctor bent over the frail form of his wife, willing her to let go of her tenuous hold on life. He was disappointed. Another dose of laudanum stilled Gracilia's tremors and quieted her moans of pain. She slept the sleep of the oblivious. Clenching his jaws, Santiago left the room to the three of them and went out. He left his house and went out into the night air, just walking around the plaza time and again, not willing to stay in the house right now. He did not return until well after midnight, long after Doctor Avila had gone home.


	26. B1 Ch25: Morning Light

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 25 – _Morning Light_**

Don Alejandro closed his book and placed it on the table next to him in the sala. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes as he looked at the clock on the other side of the room. It was late. He was going to turn in. Old Juan came in then and was seeing to the candles before he was to retire.

Don Alejandro addressed him. "Juan. Have you seen Diego tonight? I have not seen him come home from the pueblo. And come to think of it, I have not seen Bernardo either."

"No, Patrón," said Old Juan. "But I heard Gilberto speaking to Cresencia and he said Bernardo's horse is missing from the stables. Perhaps he has gone somewhere to meet Don Diego?"

"Mmmph," snorted Don Alejandro. No one told him anything anymore. "Well, I will not wait up for them. I am going to bed. See that Crescensia has my breakfast ready early tomorrow morning. I am going to inspect the cattle we have herded to Verde Valley tomorrow with Gilberto and Raul. I want to get an early start. I will be leaving an hour before sunrise."

"Sí, Patrón," said Old Juan. "I will make sure all is ready for you." Old Juan bowed and left the room.

Don Alejandro rose and went to his room mumbling under his breath about sons who were never home and servants who would not keep him informed.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Bernardo finally pointed to Diego's pocket watch as the hours went by without any sign of the imposter or his camp. Diego pulled it out and squinted at it in the fading moonlight. It was almost four o'clock in the morning. Sighing, Diego said, "Graciás, Bernardo. I suppose we had better turn back. We will barely make it home before the sun rises if we start now." He gave one more look at the hills around them. "If only we had found something, anything, which would have given us a clue as to the imposter's whereabouts. But there is nothing. If we could have had more daylight hours to follow the trail with the marked hoof print, we might have found something. But now we must go home." With that, they turned their weary horses toward the de la Vega hacienda.

Don Alejandro rose early, while it was still quite dark, and set about getting ready for his long ride of the day. He threw his cloak over his shoulders against the chill of the morning and went down to the kitchen to get his breakfast. Crecensia was nowhere to be seen, but his warm breakfast was settled beside the coals of the fire. Don Alejandro smiled. Cresencia was good enough to awaken this early and provide his breakfast, but just selfish enough to take herself back to bed for another hour's sleep. He did not fault her for that. Like himself, she was getting older too. Sleep, when you could get it, was nothing to do without.

Don Alejandro finished his breakfast and pulled his cloak around him as he went out and found his horse already saddled and waiting in the darkened stable yard. Gilberto and Raul were already mounted and waiting for him. Greeting them, Don Alejandro mounted his horse and the three of them rode away from the hacienda. Mornings were Don Alejandro's favorite time of day and he let the anticipation wash over him. He looked up and saw the shining, twinkling stars hanging in the velvety blackness of the sky. He marveled as always over their beauty. But soon, the sun would begin to make its presence known and the stars would have to give way to its brilliant light. The world of the morning always looked fresh and new to Don Alejandro, wrapped in its coat of dew drops and wisps of fog, illuminated by the rising sun.

Don Alejandro judged they would be several miles away from the hacienda when the sun came up over the horizon. He and the vaqueros rode up the hills, climbing ever higher as they rode toward the valley where the cattle herd was bedded down for the night. He was going to mark those cattle which would be slaughtered for their hides and tallow as well as marking those he would set aside to produce the next generation of the finest cattle in California. This was a task he preferred to handle personally in order to insure the quality of his herds. He could see the greying of the dawn approaching as they stopped to give their horses a breather, and he knew it would not be long. He would wait here to see the sun come up. From this place, they could see for miles across the landscape and Don Alejandro did not want to miss the sun's first rays as they shone forth. He leaned his elbow on the saddle horn as he waited, watching the plumes of smoke from the horses' nostrils that wafted on the chilled air, watching the land come alive before him.

Just as the sun came up over the hills, Don Alejandro noticed something moving against the landscape spread before him. Although the specks were very small, he could tell that two horsemen were riding toward the de la Vega hacienda. From this great distance, he could not make out who they were. They were still just dark little shadows moving across the land. The rising sun illuminated the landscape here and there, but the riders were still in the shadows cast by the hills. He pointed out the riders to the vaqueros who were with him. Neither one of them could identify the distant horsemen. After a few more moments, the unknown riders cantered up a little rise in the ground and rode through a pool of sunlight which was splashed across it. Don Alejandro relaxed. He recognized Diego's palomino, and, with a little closer scrutiny, he could recognize Bernardo's horse as well.

"It is just Diego," he said to the others. "And Bernardo."

"Sí, Patrón, I recognize the horses," said Gilberto. "But I wonder what they are doing out here?" Seeing Don Alejandro's look, he continued, "I mean, there is nothing in those hills where they are coming from. No houses, no ranchos, nothing . . . ." He trailed off when he saw that Don Alejandro's face was growing darker.

"Never mind," growled Don Alejandro. He was suddenly ill-tempered because a special part of the day had been ruined for him and because his son had apparently been out all night on some folly of his. A folly, about which he was sure Diego would never tell him. Closing his mind against the familiar ache which caught in his breast, he swung his horse's head around and kicked him into a gallop. The two vaqueros hurried to catch up. They exchanged glances as they both realized that this was going to be a very difficult day with the patrón. Nothing was going to please him today.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

"Diego, you look tired," said the Magistrado as he greeted the young don coming into his office at the usual time of the morning. "Are you not sleeping well?" Sergeant Garcia stood by the Magistrado's desk.

"I . . . am subject to insomnia at times, Your Excellency," said Diego. The all night ride had left him tired. He envied Bernardo who would have the chance to catch up on some sleep back at the hacienda. "It is nothing. It will pass. Buenos diás, Sergeant Garcia."

"Buenos diás, Don Diego," said Garcia.

"I am glad to hear it is nothing serious," said Santiago to Diego. "My wife also has trouble with insomnia when she is not taking so much of that medicine which she requires. However, of late, she has been taking a great deal more of it to help her deal with the pain. I have scarcely seen her awake for more than a few moments in the last day or so. She just lays there without moving or speaking a word. When she takes so much of the medicine, it is as if she is no longer here; as if her soul has fled to some dark place no one can reach." He looked down at the floor in sadness as he spoke.

"I am sorry to hear that, Your Excellency," said Diego, feeling very sorry for the Magistrado. Things must be growing much worse for him to have revealed so much about the señora's condition. He usually kept such things to himself. Diego said, "I and my father continue to keep Señora Gracilia in our prayers."

"Graciás, Diego. Graciás," said Santiago, smiling softly. "That means a great deal to me. And to Gracilia, I'm sure. But, how is your father, Diego? You know, I have not seen him at the pueblo in quite a while. He is well?"

"Sí, Your Excellency, his health is fine. He has been quite busy with his cattle of late." Crescensia had informed him of his father's excursion when he had gone to the kitchen for some breakfast after he had cleaned up and changed clothes.

"Ah, yes. He is very dedicated to his rancho and his cattle," said Santiago, with a smile.

"Sí, Your Excellency," replied Diego. "He is indeed." Changing the subject to one which held great interest to him, Diego said, "Is there any news of El Zorro?"

"No, Don Diego," said Sergeant Garcia, speaking up. "We have found nothing."

"The Sergeant and I were just starting to examine this map to try and decide where we would send the lancer patrols today," said Santiago pointing to the map on his desk. Garcia and Diego came closer to look. "I think we should concentrate on this area," the Magistrado said, pointing to a spot just south and east of the de la Vega rancho. "It is not too far from the San Gabriel Mission and the terrain would provide good cover for an outlaw. Don't you agree, Diego?"

Diego knew that this was the very area which he and Bernardo had just searched all night and had found nothing. It would be a waste of manpower to have Garcia's lancers search it again. "I don't know, Your Excellency," he said. "Would an outlaw such as Zorro stay in the vicinity where he was discovered?" Looking more closely at the map, he pointed and said, "I would search here if I were you Sergeant." He indicated an area more to the north, where he and Bernardo had not searched. It was the next place he intended to search if he could not get Garcia to go there.

"And why do you say that, Diego?" asked Santiago. He was curious. Diego seemed so certain.

Diego shrugged his shoulders a little. He would have to come up with a good reason and fast. He said, "It just seems to me that an outlaw as intelligent as Zorro would know and expect the obvious. He would expect you to search for him around the mission. There is water and grazing for his horse in the high meadows to the north and only a few shepherds live in those hills. It is a likely place to make camp."

Santiago knew Diego had made the right choice if it had been true that the Magistrado wanted to capture Zorro. He was rather impressed once again with the young man's intellect. But it would not do at all for the lancers to search that area, for it was indeed the very place where Uresti would have made his camp last night. No, he wanted the lancers far to the south today. Zorro would be visiting the hacienda of Don Alfredo Caldón today to kidnap one of the don's children. He would need time to get away before the lancers could arrive and begin searching.

"Very good, Diego," he said. "But I think we must search thoroughly where he was last seen in order that we do not overestimate his intelligence. Zorro has been seen many times at the San Gabriel Mission in the past and I think he must have a base camp near there somewhere."

"Sí, Don Diego," Sergeant Garcia chimed in. "I, myself, have seen Zorro at the mission when he was trying to help Don Nacho to escape. Do you not remember?"

Diego could not press his arguments any further. He felt frustrated yet again. He knew Garcia's lancers would find nothing and more time would be wasted. But there was nothing he could do. "Of course, Sergeant, I remember now," he said with a smile. "Perhaps he is in the hills there. I wish your lancers well as they search for him." Inwardly, he shook his head.

"Graciás, Don Diego," said Garcia, smiling back.

"Well, Sergeant, you had better see to your assignment then. Have the patrol search this area east of the mission and report back to me the minute they return," ordered Santiago.

"Sí, Magistrado," said Garcia saluting. He turned and left the office and Diego could hear the portly sergeant going down the stairs.


	27. B1 Ch26: Kidnapped by Zorro

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 1**

 **Chapter 26 – _Kidnapped by Zorro_**

With his free arm, Uresti held the nine-year-old boy firmly to his chest as he kept the boy from wriggling loose. The boy's hat blew off of his head. They were galloping at full tilt across the hills as Uresti, in the guise of Zorro, urged his horse on. Uresti laughed. Everything had gone perfectly. The stupid lancers were scouring the hills south of here for signs of El Zorro while he had been far to the north, watching the hacienda of Don Alfredo. Señor Santiago had given him a detailed description of the hacienda and instructions to snatch one of the don's children to take back with him to Santa Barbara. Dressed as Zorro, Uresti had bided his time and found a moment just before the noontime hour when none but the wife, the household servants and the children were at home. Two of the children, a boy and a girl, were playing in the garden just outside of the high-walled inner courtyard. This was his chance. He rode in with one of his pistols drawn as he put his horse at the low wall which surrounded the garden. The children looked up just in time to see the caped outlaw's horse alight just inside the garden in a cloud of dust, like some black bird of prey. They both screamed in fright.

One of the servants came to see what was the matter, and her eyes grew wide with fear as she saw the outlaw. She ran screaming back into the house. "Zorro! It is Zorro!" she cried out.

Looking down from his horse, Zorro pointed the pistol at the children and said, "Come here! Both of you!" But the children just backed away from him fearfully, the boy standing protectively in front of his sister, his blue eyes looking up at the outlaw. Zorro smiled at the boy's small bravery. A man, an old vaquero from the looks of him, came running into the garden brandishing a wooden pitchfork as a weapon. Zorro took careful aim and shot the pitchfork from the old man's hands. He would have just as soon killed the old man, but Señor Santiago had strict orders about that. He dismissed the old vaquero as the man fell to the ground cradling his hand to his chest. Apparently, the bullet had hit his hand. That was too bad.

Zorro smiled as he turned his attention back to the children. He tucked the spent pistol back into his banda and pulled out the other one he was carrying. "Do not make me shoot you," he said, continuing to smile. "You boy, come here." He had decided he would take the boy. A boy would be easier to handle than a girl.

Swallowing hard, the boy timidly approached Zorro. "Please, do not hurt my sister, Señor Zorro," he pleaded, scrubbing his tear streaked face with the back of his hand.

"I won't harm a hair on her head if you do what I say, boy. Understand?" The boy nodded. "Good." Dropping the reins on his horse's neck, Zorro leaned down and pulled the blond-headed boy up in front of him by grabbing the boy's blue jacket in his large fist. Keeping an eye out for other members of the household who might appear, he took the reins once again.

"Eduardo!" a woman's voice called out in fear. Zorro turned to see the boy's mother coming out of the hacienda, her hand clutching at her throat in fear. "What are you doing with my son?" she cried out to him.

Spinning his horse to face her, Zorro called out, "If you want to see your boy alive again, let no one try to follow me. Tell the boy's father that he will be receiving instructions later telling him what he must do to get his son back safe and sound. And do not worry! I will take good care of the boy! He is worth a great deal to us!" Laughing, he bowed flamboyantly to the woman and threw his arm around Eduardo, kicking his horse into a gallop. They cleared the low wall easily. He could hear the boy's mother crying and calling, "Eduardo! Eduardo!" as they rode away. The boy tried to struggle, but was no match for his captor. He cried out for his mama and the tears flowed.

"Stop that crying," said Zorro. "It will do you no good. Besides, you are too big to cry, eh?" Eduardo snuffled and rubbed his nose with the back of his sleeve, trying to stop. "That's better," said Zorro. "We have a long ride ahead of us and your crying will only make it seem longer. Besides, what other boy can say he has ridden with the great outlaw, Zorro?" Uresti laughed out loud and saw the boy had stopped crying. "There, see? It is not so bad as all that. Now just sit still while we put some miles between us and Los Angeles." He sent his horse flying over the ground, going due east from the hacienda. This part of Santiago's plan had gone well, as had all the rest of the Magistrado's plans. But Uresti/Zorro chafed, nevertheless. Things were taking so long. He was tired of living in the hills and he missed the sweet little señorita he had left behind. If it were not for Santiago, he would slip around and see her sometimes, but he did not wish to incur Santiago's disfavor. For now, he would take this boy north, to his camp in the hills near the de la Vega rancho after he had laid a false trail by riding to the east from here. Then he would wait to hear from Lozano.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Word of the kidnaping came just as Diego was getting ready to go home for the day. He was eager to be away so that he and Bernardo could continue their own search for the elusive imposter. The tired and dusty lancer patrol had just returned without finding the false Zorro, but they did report the trail of two horses which seemed to have quartered back and forth across the area. Diego was glad no one asked his opinion about the trail. Everyone just assumed the tracks belonged to Zorro and some companion of his. Fortunately, the lancers were not able to follow the trail all the way back to the de la Vega hacienda. The precaution which Diego had taken to walk their horses in a stream for a half mile or so before turning for home was time well spent. The Magistrado was extremely disappointed the patrol had found nothing more than tracks. He vowed again that upon the next reported sighting of the outlaw, he would lead the soldiers personally. Diego could see the soldiers were impressed by this. They would be proud to have the Magistrado ride with them. Sargent Garcia told them to see to their horses and get some rest.

Some moments later, Diego was just preparing to take his leave of the Magistrado when a peon came riding into the plaza at full tilt, calling for help. Santiago followed Diego out onto the balcony to see what was happening. The peon rode up to the gates of the cuartel and jumped from his horse. "Help! Help!" he cried to the soldiers. "My master's child has been kidnaped! Help!" One of the soldiers ran to get Sergeant Garcia.

Santiago looked at Diego. Returning inside his office, he picked up his sword and came back out, securing it to his belt. "Come," he said. They descended the stairs and with long strides, his hand on his sword hilt, the Magistrado covered the ground. Diego was right by his side, his strides no less long. They arrived at the cuartel just as Garcia was coming to the gates. Everyone in the plaza had stopped to see what was happening.

"Sergeant!" called Santiago. "What is the matter? What is this man saying?"

"That is what I have come to find out, Your Excellency," said Sergeant Garcia. Turning to the peon, he said, "Carlos, what is it? What is wrong?"

The peon swallowed and gathered his breath. "Oh, Sergeant! The eldest son of Don Alfredo has been kidnaped and taken away. Oh, come quickly, Sergeant!"

Santiago put his hand on the peon's shoulder. "Who has done this thing, Carlos? Who kidnaped Eduardo?"

"Zorro! It was Zorro, Your Excellency!" exclaimed Carlos, looking up at Santiago.

"Zorro!" said many voices from the crowd which had gathered at the cuartel gates. Diego's heart stopped. He mouthed the name silently to himself. He was no less taken aback than the people in the crowd. Perhaps more so.

"Are you sure, Carlos? It was Zorro?" asked Santiago, clearly taking charge.

"Sí, Your Excellency! With her own eyes, Doña Florintina saw him take Eduardo."

"In which direction did he go?" asked Santiago.

"To the east, that is what Doña Florintina said. That is what the other servants said." Carlos continued, "Don Alfredo has not yet returned and the Doña is crying for her child. The few vaqueros at the hacienda are guarding the Doña and the other children. They are awaiting Don Alfredo's return, but we thought the Magistrado should know, and so I came."

Diego was taking in all of this. Again this false Zorro was raising the stakes. From robbing a few peons and burning a few hovels, he had now taken to kidnaping the son of a don. A don who was one of his father's closest friends. The imposter had to be stopped. His attention returned to Santiago.

"We must help Don Alfredo. Sergeant, turn out the lancers," ordered the Magistrado. "Get fresh horses and have mine saddled as well. We will search the hills for this vile outlaw, Zorro, and we will return Don Alfredo's son to him. Hurry. Meet me in front of my house in five minutes."

Sergeant Garcia saluted and said, "Sí, Your Excellency!" Turning to the lancers, he said, "To horse, lancers! To horse! Full equipment and be ready to go in five minutes! Go!" The soldiers scurried to get ready, followed by Garcia, who shouted orders at his men as they worked.

"But Señor Magistrado, Zorro said not to follow him or the boy might be hurt!" exclaimed Carlos.

Santiago put his hand on the man's shoulder as he said, "We cannot allow this outlaw to think he can get away with this crime. Justice has been denied too long in his case." There were nods all around from the people in the crowd. Santiago spoke directly to them. "We will track him down and recover Don Alfredo's son for him. We will put an end to Zorro's evil plans. We shall do everything in our power to make sure that the boy is not harmed."

There were murmurs of appreciation from the crowd and Carlos nodded as he fearfully accepted Santiago's words. What other choice did he have but to trust the Magistrado?

"Carlos, you will ride with us back to the hacienda," said Santiago.

"Sí, Your Excellency," said Carlos, bowing. He went to get his horse.

Diego took this moment to speak earnestly. "Your Excellency, I would like to go with you. To help in the search. Don Alfredo is a great friend of our family." He saw the gentle pity in Santiago's dark eyes as the man turned to him.

"I'm sorry, Diego, but you are not particularly . . . suited to this kind of activity." He put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I know you want to help, but you must leave this to those of us who are trained to handle such matters." Diego felt the eyes of those around them. They also believed they knew the truth of the Magistrado's words.

"But, . . ." he began.

"No, Diego," said Santiago kindly, but with some force. "You will remain here or at your hacienda. Believe me, it is for your own protection. Now I must go and get ready to leave myself. Excuse me?" With that, Santiago turned and walked hurriedly toward his house leaving Diego standing with the town's people. Diego was frustrated once again. Among all the people who could be searching for this outlaw, Diego was the man most suited for the job and he knew it. He knew the hills as only the real Zorro could, having ridden through them many times on his missions and as many times as he was being pursued by those who would capture him. His frustration was that he was still precluded from doing so by the very persona which had allowed Zorro to exist. Clenching his teeth, Diego tried to reign in his emotions and to think clearly. Don Alfredo's son was out there, the victim of the imposter. That should be his first priority. His personal problems would just have to wait.

Placing his hat upon his head, Diego strode over to his horse and took the reins loose from the hitching rail. He looked over the plaza at the people still gathered in knots as they spoke of the kidnaping among themselves. Then with a loud clatter, the lancers, with Sergeant Garcia at their head, rode out of the cuartel and over to the Magistrado's house. There Santiago joined them, taking his horse from the servant who was waiting for him. The Magistrado mounted, and soon he and the entire company of soldiers were galloping out of the pueblo toward Don Alfredo's hacienda, leaving behind a cloud of dust which hung suspended in the air.

Diego would have given anything to have gone with them. He slapped the reins again and again into the palm of his hand as he thought. He knew that he was about to disobey a direct order from the Magistrado. He would go by the de la Vega rancho and pick up Bernardo, then he and his servant would go to the hacienda of Don Alfredo. By the time they arrived, the Magistrado and his search party would be gone and Diego would be able to ask his own questions of the Doña Florintina and the others. He might discover things that the others could miss. Then he and Bernardo were going to conduct their own search. He had often been forced to operate outside of the law in order to set things right before this. Was this so different? He would not be breaking the law, per se, only disobeying his superior's orders. He was sure Señor Santiago would understand. Diego would make him understand. A boy's life was at stake.

* * *

 **END OF BOOK 1**

* * *

 **Account Holder's Note:** I added a better explanation of the content of each of the books to the prologue. Also, from now on the first chapter of every book will contain a book summary...

NEXT is BOOK 2: Ensnared


	28. B2 Ch1: The Searchers

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

 **Accountholder's Note:** Here begins BOOK 2 of Treason's revelation, the ' **Ensnared** ' book.

* * *

 ** _Summary BOOK 2 (Esnared):_** _Between the demands of his work and the whispers of an army ready to take over California hiding in the hills, Diego already had his hands full. And now with a child kidnapped by the alleged Zorro he and Bernardo are in a race against time to keep something terrible from happening. But time might run out sooner than they expect because the Magistrado's trap is about to spring. With everything that's going on, will Diego even notice the terrible fate that is in store for him before it's too late?_

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter 1 – _The Searchers_**

Santiago allowed himself to enjoy his position of leadership for the lancer patrol which would be setting out in search of the kidnaped boy. He could hear the adulation and the encouraging shouts from the people as he rode out of the pueblo at the head of the column. He bowed and saluted them with his sword. Everyone in the pueblo saw him as a strong leader of men, a man in whom they believed they could place their trust.

Santiago was quite well pleased in another matter. Uresti had performed well this day. The kidnaping of Don Alfredo's child had been done on time and exactly as he had ordered. If it were not so important for Uresti to remain out of sight for the next few days until Zorro was required once again, Santiago might have given him a reward by allowing him to visit the little señorita whom the man favored so much. But he would not allow it. Not yet. Uresti must remain focused. The señorita would be a distraction; perhaps too much of a distraction. Uresti was already a man barely under his control, due only to the damaging evidence of his alliance with the Eagle. No, not until this was over could Uresti have his señorita.

For now though, Santiago intended to lead the patrol in a search for the missing child as though with every intention of finding him and his abductor. Of course, the patrol would find nothing for he did not wish them to, but that did not take away from the heady feeling which came over him as he rode out at the head of the military patrol. He knew that everyone would be saddened by his lack of success, but he knew they would nevertheless be sympathetic towards him. He would have tried his best, would he not? And, as everyone knew, you cannot capture Zorro. Santiago smiled as he urged his men to greater speed.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

When Diego and Bernardo rode up to the hacienda of Don Alfredo, all was quiet. They were challenged by some of the vaqueros who immediately lowered their weapons as soon as they recognized Diego.

"Where is Doña Florintina?" asked Diego, as he dismounted and tied his horse to the rail. "I wish to see her, if I may." Bernardo was quick to dismount as well.

"Sí, Don Diego. Follow me," said one of the vaqueros.

They were led into the hacienda and into the sala. There, Doña Florintina was seated on a couch with her three other children around her. She was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief and it was evident that she had shed many tears. She looked up as Diego and Bernardo entered.

Diego went over to Florintina and knelt before her, taking her hand in his. "Doña Florintina," he said. "I am so sorry to hear what has happened. Is there anything I can do for you? You have but to ask."

Doña Florintina looked at him gratefully, but shook her head gently. "Graciás, Diego, but no. There is nothing to be done now but to wait for my husband or to see if the Magistrado can find my son for me."

"You have heard nothing from Don Alfredo?" asked Diego.

"No, there has been nothing," she replied sadly. "He was going to the farthest range of the rancho today to speak with some of his shepherds concerning their flocks. It seems I have been waiting for him so long already." Holding her handkerchief to her face, Doña Florintina began to cry again. "My son, my poor son," she sobbed quietly. The children began to cry as well. They were very frightened.

Diego gathered the children in his arms. He had gotten to know all of them since his return from Spain. The two youngest had been born while he was away in Spain at the university, but the two eldest remembered him from before, even though they were quite young when he left. They all loved for him to read stories to them and tell them of his time in Madrid. Eduardo had especially wanted hear about the times Diego had been invited to the palace of the King. He had dreams of one day going there himself. Diego brushed the tears away from the cheeks of the youngest, Leticia, and kissed her forehead.

"Don Diego, where did that black man take my brother?" the oldest girl asked through her tears. She was the one who had been with Eduardo when the imposter had kidnaped him. She was seven.

"I do not know, Ariana," said Diego. "I do not know. But he will come home soon, I just know it," he said to reassure her. Ariana took this on faith and hugged Diego's neck.

"Doña Florintina? If I may?" said Diego, his heart going out to this family. He indicated Bernardo. "Let Bernardo take them into the next room. I think he can calm them and keep them entertained for a few moments while we speak."

Bernardo could not acknowledge what he was hearing, but he looked meaningfully at Diego. He knew what to do.

At Doña Florintina's quiet nod, Diego said, "Graciás." Standing, he turned to Bernardo and made the motions of instruction. Bernardo smiled and nodded brightly. Diego said to the children, "Please. Go with Bernardo. He has some new magic tricks he would like to show to you." Bernardo made a coin appear out of thin air. "See?" Diego said to them. "I'll bet you would like to see how he does that." He was pleased to see the children were responding. They were watching Bernardo closely. The mozo made the coin disappear again. "Go with him. Go on," he said.

"Go children," said Doña Florintina. "It is all right." Bernardo bent down and took the hands of two of the children and led all of them down the hallway into another room of the hacienda.

Grateful to have such a man in his service, Diego turned back to Doña Florintina who had regained some of her composure. He came to sit beside her on the couch. "Please, Doña Florintina. I must know," he said earnestly. "What happened here today? Tell me everything."

Slowly, coaxing out every detail he could, Diego heard the entire episode. "And you are sure he said, 'He is worth a great deal to us'?" he asked at the end.

"Sí, that is what he said," said Doña Florintina.

In Diego's thoughts, he remarked upon the word "us". _So the imposter had so much as admitted that there were others in on this plot. Who could they be? Another unanswered question._ To Doña Florintina he said, "And the outlaw rode away from the hacienda to the east?" She nodded. Diego knew this was the very area that both he and the soldiers had searched thoroughly. Diego's hunch was that this was a feint by the outlaw, and that he would not be found there. The outlaw would expect the soldiers and anyone else to waste time searching there while he made good his escape in another direction. Diego would concentrate on the area further to the north, where he had tried to direct Sergeant Garcia this morning. That is where he thought he would find the imposter and the boy. He was anxious to be on his way.

"Now, are you sure there is nothing I may do for you, Señora?" he offered as a gentleman.

"No, Diego. There is nothing," said Doña Florintina. "Except to pray for the swift return of my husband and for a miracle to restore my son to me."

"I shall most certainly do that," said Diego. He noticed Bernardo and children coming back down the hall. Each of the children had a piece of string laced through their fingers which they held up before them. Bernardo had taught them how to make a cat's cradle. The littlest one's efforts were quite lopsided, but she was smiling proudly, nevertheless. Doña Florintina gathered them to her and admired each creation.

She smiled up at Bernardo. To Diego, she said, "How can I thank him?"

"I think he already knows, Señora," said Diego. Bernardo smiled and bowed to her. "We must be going now. If you need anything, anything at all, please send word to our hacienda at once." Taking his leave, Diego and Bernardo mounted their horses and rode away.

Once out of sight of the hacienda, Diego pulled his horse to a stop. "Bernardo, we must find this imposter. I have a feeling that he is camping in the high meadows in the foothills to the north. He has laid a false trail which will have everyone else searching the wrong area." At Bernardo's questioning look, he said, "I just know." At Bernardo's next gesture, he said, "Yes, it is a long distance, but we cannot let him get away. There is not enough time to find the Magistrado or Don Alfredo and convince them where to search. The trail is already several hours old. We must try to catch up with him ourselves. We must save Eduardo and return him to his mother safe and unharmed. We two can do that better than a whole host of soldiers and vaqueros." Bernardo nodded in firm agreement. He knew who his master was after all. "Come then, let us delay no longer," said Diego, as he urged his horse into a ground eating gallop.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

The sun was angling low on the horizon and there had been no sign of the outlaw or his little prisoner. Wearily, Sergeant Garcia scanned the low rolling hills around them once again and brought his horse alongside that of Santiago's.

"Your Excellency," he said. "Would it not be wise to circle back by Don Alfredo's hacienda and search there for Zorro's trail?" Garcia was puzzled by Santiago's methods in this search. He had not gone to the hacienda to pick up the outlaw's trail, but had taken them back to the area around the mission. Then he had Garcia split the patrol into three groups and send them out in different directions with instructions to meet back at the starting point in two hours if they had not found anything. Any patrol which found the slightest trace of Zorro was to fire a musket into the air as a signal.

"As I told you, Sergeant," said Santiago, "I believe the outlaw to have his camp somewhere in these hills. He was headed east from Don Alfredo's hacienda and that would take him right into this very area. This is where he was seen before this latest crime of his. He has to be here somewhere. We will continue the search as planned."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Garcia, accepting this. He still did not understand, but the Magistrado was his commanding officer and he would do as he was ordered.

Suddenly, from their north, they heard the report of a musket in the far distance. Garcia was so startled he almost caused his horse to bolt from beneath him. Gaining control of the animal once more, he had to circle back around to where the Magistrado had pulled his horse to a stop. The lancers came to a halt behind them.

"What are they doing so far north?" growled Santiago, before he could catch himself. He had to admit to himself that he, too, had been startled by the sound of the musket. A sound which he should not have heard. None of the lancers should have been that far north. Seeing that his men were watching him, expecting he would be giving an order to ride to the sound of the musket, he had to put the best face on the situation. "Come on, men!" he called as he kicked his horse into a gallop.

They rode close to two miles before coming upon the lancers who were waiting for them. It was Corporal Reyes and the three men assigned to him. When Santiago and Garcia rode up with their men, Reyes was standing next to his horse, holding something dark in his hands. It was the hat of a small boy. Santiago's eyes narrowed. Uresti had been careless after all.

Garcia reached Reyes first. "What do you have there, Corporal?" he asked.

Reyes said, "A hat, Sergeant," as he handed the item to Garcia.

"I can see that. Whose hat is it?"

Reyes shrugged his shoulders, whether as to his own doubt or as to the denseness of his superior officer, one could not say. "I don't know, Sergeant. Maybe it belongs to the boy who was kidnaped?" he offered. "Maybe?" he shrugged again.

The light came on for Sergeant Garcia then. Yes, it was the boy's hat, there was no doubt in his mind. "Your Excellency!" he exclaimed in excitement. "I have the hat of the missing boy!" He waved it around. "Zorro must have come this way." He turned his horse to face that of Santiago's as he handed the hat to the Magistrado.

Reyes was used to Garcia's grandstanding by now and he did not let that bother him overmuch. He just stood by his horse awaiting his next orders.

"Yes, you are right, I believe, Sergeant," said Santiago, forced into playing this out. "Good work, Corporal. How did you come to be all the way up here when the search area is so much farther to the south?"

Reyes blinked and said, "But the Sergeant told us to come this way."

"What?" said Santiago, looking sternly at Garcia.

Garcia was nonplussed. He stuttered, "What are you talking about, Corporal? I told you to search here?"

"Sí, Sergeant," confirmed Reyes. "Don't you remember? You told me that Zorro could disappear like the north wind. You said that if we looked where the north wind came from we would find Zorro." Reyes shrugged. "So we looked north," he added innocently.

Garcia rolled his eyes. "No, estupido, you got it all wrong." He was afraid of the Magistrado being displeased with him when it was the stupid corporal who was the problem. Trying to turn the attention from the botched orders, he pointed to the hat again. "Your Excellency. This proves that Zorro must have come this way. His tracks must be around here somewhere."

Santiago closed his eyes for a moment. He had thought himself blessed with a garrison of such simple-minded soldiers who could be easily led around. But now he was not so sure. A simple-minded misunderstanding between a couple of simple-minded soldiers and now the one small scrap of evidence which had been lost in the vastness of this wilderness had been discovered. He opened his eyes. The other group of lancers which had been out searching were just now riding up and had seen the small hat which he held in his hands. He could see in their eyes that they knew whose hat it was. Again, they awaited the orders he must give.

"All right," he said, with authority. "Scout around and see if you can find any tracks for us to follow."

"Right over here, Magistrado," said Reyes, pointing to the ground beside him. "Here are the tracks."

Silently cursing the corporal for his new found efficiency, Santiago walked his horse over so that he could lean down and peer at the tracks.

"See, Your Excellency. Here they are." Reyes pointed to the ground. "And see? There is a piece missing from one of the horse's shoes. It will make following the tracks easier, no?"

Santiago had to agree. "Sí, Corporal. It will. Mount up and let us be off. Forward, lancers!" he ordered. This time, when he set off at the head of his men, Santiago did not take much pleasure in the act. Things were starting to go wrong and he did not like it. He did not like it at all. He set his jaw. Uresti had better be watching his back trail in case he needed to make his escape. For, if he were stupid enough to be found, Santiago thought that he might find it pleasurable to be the one who put a bullet in the man's heart. Carelessness was not to be excused. Santiago could easily find another to resurrect Zorro from the dead. The outlaw was too useful to his plans to do without.


	29. B2 Ch2: Intersection

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter 2 – _Intersection_**

It took Diego only two hours to find the false Zorro's trail after they had cut across to the northern foothills. The shadows cast by the setting sun were growing long upon the land. "Look, Bernardo!" he said, as he pointed downward. "That track. It is the one with the piece missing from the shoe. It is _his_ track." Bernardo nodded in agreement. "Come, let us waste no time," said Diego, eager to locate the imposter. They urged their horses into a ground-eating canter.

Neither of them saw the lancer patrol topping the rise some distance behind them, but Santiago saw the two distant companions immediately. He recognized Diego's palomino. He was vexed. _What is he doing here?_ he thought to himself. _I told him to stay at the pueblo or to go home._ He realized too, that Diego was following the same trail as they. _He must not find Uresti,_ he thought. He was surprised at the young man's disobedience of his orders. Diego had never once done anything untoward like this in all the time he had known him. It also disturbed him that once again, Diego had made the right choice in searching the northern foothills for signs of the outlaw. Before he could finish his thoughts, Sergeant Garcia spoke.

"Magistrado, that is Don Diego de la Vega and his servant Bernardo riding ahead of us." he said, scratching behind his ear. "I wonder what he is doing out here?"

Suddenly, everything did not look so dim to Santiago. Yes, what indeed was young de la Vega doing out here? A smile curled itself around Santiago's lips. Why, the young don was going to a secret meeting with the outlaw Zorro as they were co-conspirators in the plot to overthrow the legal government of California. It was as simple as that. This would be exactly the point Santiago would bring up at the trial to be. Diego had just handed him another nail for his own coffin. And that of his servant as well.

"Sergeant!" he said.

Garcia snapped to attention in his saddle. "Sí, Magistrado!"

"You and two of your lancers will ride at once to intercept Diego de le Vega and escort him and his servant back to me. We will wait here."

"Sí, Magistrado!" acknowledged Garcia. "Corporal, you and Contreras come with me!" They set off at top speed and were soon hidden in a cloud of dust as they rode down the hill.

Diego was concentrating on the ground, following the tracks, and did not hear the horses approaching. But Bernardo heard them when they were still quite far off. He did not turn around to look, but put his hand on Diego's arm to catch his attention. When Diego looked at him, Bernardo made a subtle motion with his thumb in the direction of the sound. Immediately, Diego also picked up on the sound and looked around. He saw Garcia and two lancers riding hard for them. He pulled up. Bernardo pulled up also and swung his horse around to face the soldiers.

"Hola, Sergeant!" Diego greeted Garcia as they rode up.

"Hola, Don Diego," said Garcia. "I have come to tell you that the Magistrado wishes to speak with you, Don Diego. You will come with us, please?"

"The Magistrado?" said Diego. "Where is he?" Diego would have much preferred running into the Sergeant out here than the Magistrado. He could always convince Garcia he had good reason to be out here, but the Magistrado, . . . . He sighed. It would seem that he was just going to have to face the music for his choice. He was, after all, only trying to help.

"He is waiting up there, on the hill," said Garcia, pointing.

"By all means, let us go to him then," said Diego. With Garcia at his side and Bernardo just behind, they all rode quickly back to the hilltop where Santiago and the rest of the lancers were waiting. Diego could tell nothing from the look on the Magistrado's face. It was expressionless. But he had a bad feeling about the outcome of their meeting.

"Your Excellency," he said, as he reined in his palomino just in front of Santiago. He bowed slightly in the saddle, saying nothing else, letting his superior have the floor.

Santiago raised his chin a bit and said, "How is it I find you out here so far from the pueblo or your home which is where I bade you to stay, Diego?" His voice was firm, but Diego could detect no real anger.

Diego held out his hands and spoke the truth. "Your Excellency, I felt it was my duty to help in the search for Eduardo. Don Alfredo and his family are our very close friends and I just could not sit by and do nothing to help."

Santiago was aware of the soldiers around him, especially Sergeant Garcia. He wanted to make exactly the right impression on them. He was the exacting Magistrado, accustomed to being obeyed by all, but he was also a compassionate servant of the King, and could be lenient when he chose. "Diego, you have disobeyed my instructions and I am disappointed in you," he said sternly. Diego lowered his gaze for a moment. "In the future, you will not disobey me again. Will you?"

Diego raised his head and their eyes met. Santiago made sure his eyes expressed only the reflection of the honorable Magistrado and not the secret serpent he held within. He could see that the young don was truly sorry at having disobeyed the orders of his superior. But he could also see the young man was only doing what he felt he had to do.

"No, Your Excellency," said Diego. "I will endeavor to do all you ask if it is within my powers to do so."

Santiago thought the answer a bit weak, but accepted it nevertheless. "Good." He turned to the other men. "Discipline is not only the purview of the military. We must all have discipline." Turning back to Diego, he said, "We are on the trail of the outlaw. It will be a dangerous search. You were fortunate to have found his tracks, though I am sure you can not have known they were his, can you?"

Diego started to answer that he did, but hesitated. He could not really say very much about how he knew the tracks were those of the false Zorro. Before he could decide what to say, Santiago continued.

With a small smile he said, "Of course you didn't. You just found some tracks and followed them. Is that not so?"

Deciding to go along with the Magistrado's notion, Diego agreed. "Sí, Magistrado. The tracks were made by a running horse and it just seemed as though they might have belonged to Zorro. I decided to follow them hoping to find him and the boy."

"And what would you have done then?" asked Santiago, laughing gently. "You have no weapons and I daresay that you could not have _talked_ the outlaw into giving himself up and releasing his captive." The lancers all smiled at this and some laughed as well. Even Sergeant Garcia was grinning.

Diego was growing angry. He could not show it, of course, but again the desire welled up inside of him to show everyone just what kind of man he was. Especially the Magistrado, whose respect he wanted in equal measure with that of his father's. But he was still restrained by the fact that should he reveal just how much he knew about the false Zorro, he would be exposing himself to the danger of being recognized for who he was. The real man behind the mask. So, he swallowed his anger and became Diego de la Vega. "I had not thought that far ahead, Your Excellency," he said, giving himself to his persona. "I only know that I want to help find the outlaw and return the boy to his mother and father."

"Well, I cannot fault you for the honorable intentions of your heart, Diego," said Santiago with a gentle smile. "But I think it best if you return to your home now. Leave the pursuit of this bandit to us."

"But, . . ." Diego started to protest.

"No, Diego," Santiago said firmly. "You are to return immediately."

Diego desperately wanted to continue the search. Even with the lancer patrol getting in the way, perhaps he could still find a way to help the Magistrado capture the false Zorro. "Please, Your Excellency, if you would only just let me . . ."

"Are you trying to disobey my instructions once again?" asked Santiago, letting his dark eyes narrow to show anger this time. He let his voice rise perceptibly as he furrowed his brow. "Is there something more to this than you are telling me? Do _you_ know where Zorro is?" Without looking, Santiago felt the electric shock which went through the lancers surrounding them. There, let them chew on that, he thought with satisfaction. Suddenly realizing he had let his face of anger slip, he quickly reapplied its effects. From behind this mask, he knew it did not matter what Diego replied; at the trial, the lancers would only remember the questions that the Magistrado had asked. He would make sure of that.

Diego's heart skipped a beat, thus he missed the fleeting changes in Santiago's face. Only his long practice at being Diego de la Vega allowed him to keep his own outward reaction to a minimum. "Oh no, Your Excellency," he replied quickly. "I am only following this trail as you are. I know nothing more than that. Please forgive me if I have offended you."

"Very well," said Santiago in a hardened voice. "You and your servant will return home at once." Pointing at one of the soldiers, he said, "Lancer, you will accompany Don Diego back to his hacienda. Then you may return to the cuartel." The lancer saluted smartly. "Now, Sergeant. We have a trail to follow. Assemble your lancers. We will move out at once." Garcia motioned to his soldiers, and they set out after the Magistrado who had not waited for them, but was already moving quickly along the trail.

Santiago was elated. This little episode had gone quite well. He smiled to himself as he led the patrol across the landscape. The delay with Diego meant that it would not be long until the sun was completely gone from the sky and it would be easy to lead the soldiers away from Uresti's track. By the time the moon had risen, they would be far away from where Uresti was to have camped tonight. After a long and thorough search in all the wrong places, he would return to the pueblo near midnight, empty handed, but praised by the people for his valiant effort. Then he would send Lozano out to meet with Uresti and tell him he must move to his other camp on the mountain near Santa Barbara immediately. Then Lozano would erase all evidence of Uresti's camp near Los Angeles and also erase Uresti's back trail for several miles. By the time a fresh lancer patrol was mounted and ready to search the area, they would have nothing to find. Let them spend their day searching and searching. Meanwhile, he would embark on the next part of his plan. That of sending Diego de la Vega to Santa Barbara to meet with his destiny . . . . and Zorro.

The three men sat on their horses watching the patrol melt into the distance. Diego looked at Bernardo and the two of them shared their gloomy thoughts without need of words. Sighing, Diego said to the lancer, "Lead the way, Lopez. We will be right behind you." Nodding, Lopez set out. Diego and Bernardo rode side by side, several paces behind him. Neither spoke. Bernardo could see that Diego was brooding and angry at having been sent away by the Magistrado, so he did not try to make silent conversation with his young master. The ride home was a long and solemn one.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Diego was silent into the early evening hours. He stayed in his room, telling Old Juan that he was not feeling well. Bernardo brought supper to him, but he only toyed with the food, not really interested in eating. Finally, he gave up and went to sit on his bed, leaning back against the headboard, losing himself in his thoughts . Bernardo occupied himself by brushing some of Diego's clothing and polishing his boots. He did not wish to disturb Diego. He would wait until his young master was ready to speak. But he did have some thoughts of his own about the day's events which he wanted to convey.

Diego was brooding over his dilemma which seemed to have no resolution. He could not risk going out to search for Eduardo again either as himself or as Zorro. He had already risked the ire of the Magistrado once today and counted himself fortunate that he had not been formally reprimanded. As it was, the Magistrado's remarks still stung him deeply. Despite all the fine work he had performed in the Magistrado's service, due to his Diego persona he still lacked the personal respect he desired from Santiago. He remembered how Santiago had laughed at him today, kindly though it had been. Being sent home, escorted by a soldier, was a further humiliation. It said that the Magistrado felt he could not completely trust Diego enough to follow his orders. Diego did not care what the soldiers thought of this, he only knew that he had damaged the respect he had been building with the Magistrado. This hurt him deeply. Diego still had a burning desire to search for Eduardo, however, there was no way he could take the risk of searching the hills in the dark as Diego without risking being found by the patrol again. If he was found a second time where he was not supposed to be, the Magistrado would be very angry. Making his father angry from time to time was one thing, but Diego felt that the first building stones of his future lay with his service to the Magistrado. If he made Santiago angry enough to dismiss him for his lack of obedience, then his plans to build a future as a man of worth would be dealt a heavy blow. He sighed.

Nor could he ride in search of the boy as Zorro, he thought to himself. If he, as Zorro, was spotted riding in the hills by the lancers, they would give him chase, wasting valuable time which would be better spent searching for Eduardo. Besides, such a commotion would surely warn the false Zorro, and he might slip away in the dark and never be found. Diego did not wish to be the cause of a disturbance which might be detrimental to the boy. He sighed again. He had gladly risked death many times as he defied military commanders and high government officials, but they were corrupt men and not worthy of his respect. Señor Santiago was different. He was a man indeed worthy of Diego's respect. He was everything the others were not. A man of integrity, justice, and honor, he was the embodiment of the very kind of man Diego had dreamed of as an advocate for the people. The kind of man Diego knew himself to be. He could not find it within himself to risk alienating such a man as he had already alienated his father. Diego pounded his thigh in frustration. When had he ever been so free to come and go on the winds of the night and felt so bound within the walls of his own room?

He caught sight of Bernardo's concerned look as the servant paused in his boot polishing in reaction to Diego's act of frustration. Faithful Bernardo. Concerned only for his master's well being. Deserving to know what was weighing so heavily on the mind of his master. Motioning for Bernardo to come over, Diego swung his legs over the side of his bed and sat up. Then he told Bernardo everything.

Bernardo nodded throughout Diego's description of his dilemma. He had already surmised a great deal of it. What concerned him the most was Diego's deep and burning desire to gain the complete respect of the Magistrado. Bernardo suspected that deep down, it was really Don Alejandro's respect that Diego desired the most. It was just that Diego had come to believe the only way to begin to earn that respect from his father was to prove himself to a man such as the Magistrado. When Don Alejandro saw that Diego was successful as the deputy to the Magistrado, when he had proved himself to be a man whom Don Alejandro himself respected not just for his office but for his character, then his father would begin to see Diego in a new light. That would be the beginning for the two of them. That is what Diego really wanted. A new beginning for his father and himself. Bernardo's heart went out to Diego.

But Bernardo had his doubts about the Magistrado. He really had very little more upon which to base those doubts other than those things he had already expressed to Diego in the past. But he did have one more thing to point out to Diego from today's events. He would now try to convey that thing to his young master. Carefully, he began to sign.

"Yes, I remember when we rode up to the Magistrado," said Diego. "Yes, he grew angry with me when I wanted to continue the search. What is your point?" Bernardo signed some more. "Did I see his face alter when he asked me if I knew where Zorro was?" Diego thought for a moment. "No, I saw nothing. What do you think you saw?" More signs. "Satisfaction? You saw satisfaction on the Magistrado's face behind the anger? What do you mean?" Bernardo struggled to sign such intangible concepts. "You think he asked that question for a purpose? What purpose?" Diego was having a hard time with this. "The lancers? He did it for the lancers and Sergeant Garcia? Why?" Bernardo could only shrug. Diego looked at him for a moment. "You think the Magistrado asked that question to embarrass me in front of the lancers?" Bernardo was sure this was not the right interpretation of what he had seen, but his powers of expression were just not adequate enough to give voice to his doubtful thoughts. He could only hold out his hands helplessly.

Diego continued. "I'm sure you are mistaken, Bernardo. The Magistrado is not that kind of man. I think he was so disappointed in me that he let his anger color his words. That is what you saw." Bernardo shook his head doubtfully. Diego looked at him a moment more. "Well, at any rate, the main problem is I cannot go out into the hills to search for Eduardo. But I must do something. I cannot just sit here." He got up and began pacing the room. Bernardo shrugged because he did not know how to help his young master.

"Wait," said Diego, brightening. He pointed his finger at Bernardo as he spoke. "Doña Florintina said there would be a message delivered to Don Alfredo, giving him instructions concerning their son. I'm sure it will demand a ransom. We will go and watch Don Alfredo's hacienda and wait for this message. Doña Florintina said the imposter referred to "us" when he spoke to her. There is an accomplice with the imposter, and we are going to capture him. Then we will not only have the message, we will have the messenger. He can tell the Magistrado where the imposter is." Diego smiled grimly. Bernardo returned his smile. "But first, my friend, we must determine whether the message has already been delivered. We will visit Doña Florintina once more and see. Come. Let us be off," said Diego. They went to get their horses.


	30. B2 Ch3: The Ransom Note

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter 3 – _The Ransom Note_**

In the darkness, Lozano crouched behind some bushes which were across the road from Don Alfredo's hacienda. He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. The rough clothing he wore to conceal himself as a peon chafed his skin. He had waited until full darkness had come to carry out the Magistrado's orders. He was to deliver Zorro's ransom note to the hacienda so that the next part of Santiago's plans could be put into motion. He gripped the knife in his hand securely. The note was tied to the handle of the knife, and he was to throw it at the main gate and then make his getaway. In the dark, the vaqueros guarding the hacienda would see only the vague shape of a ragged peon delivering the message. He would then run to his horse, tied up some distance away from the hacienda, and shed his peon's clothing, resuming those of the respectable Claudio Lozano, merchantman of Los Angeles. In this way, should chase be given, they would not find the man they sought.

Standing, he prepared to step out and throw the knife, but halted. He suddenly dropped down to crouch among the bushes once again. He had heard horses coming toward him, or rather toward the hacienda. He wondered if it was Don Alfredo returning. He was surprised when he saw, not Don Alfredo, but Diego de la Vega and his servant riding up to the main gate. Lozano thought quickly. What would the Magistrado have him do? Deliver the note while Diego was present or wait until he had left? Then Lozano felt as though inspiration had come calling. Yes, he would deliver the note while young de la Vega was here, but he would make it look as though Diego himself could have made the delivery. Lozano had been studying the Magistrado's ways and thought he had learned a thing or two. If he could carry this off, he would look very good in Santiago's eyes; perhaps earning a nice reward.

Diego and Bernardo were challenged by the vaqueros and asked to dismount. Lozano took this moment to skirt the group, and using the darkness and the horses as cover, he made his way silently over to the wall which surrounded the courtyard of the hacienda. He had to jump the second time in order to grab the top of the wall, but he at last managed to pull himself on top of and over the wall before any one could notice him. Keeping to the shadows, Lozano ran and took cover behind the trunk of one of the great oak trees in the courtyard. From this vantage point, he could see that Diego had convinced the vaqueros of his identity and was being allowed to enter the courtyard. He and his servant walked up to the door of the hacienda where another vaquero challenged them. While they were thus occupied, Lozano took the opportunity to run from shadow to shadow and gain the safety of the shrubbery planted by the house. He peered around the corner of the house, and saw that Diego was still speaking with the vaquero, so he looked back along the wall he was hugging. Along the wall, which extended to the back of the hacienda, he saw there were two shuttered windows. Lozano crept up to the first one and tried to open it. It was locked from the inside. He moved on to the second one and found to his relief it was unlocked. Silently, he opened it and pulled himself up and inside a darkened room. He turned and closed the window behind him.

When he looked around the room, he found that he was in what looked to be a guest bedroom, one which appeared to be seldom used. Quietly, he stole to the bedroom's door and opened it the merest crack so that he could see and hear. From down the hallway, he could hear one of Don Alfredo's house servants telling Diego to wait for a moment while he went to see if Doña Florintina would receive him. The servant did not pass through the hallway where Lozano was watching, but went to a different part of the house. Carefully, Lozano opened the door just enough to ease out into the hallway and slipped down its length toward the place where he had heard the voices. The hallway opened up into a vestibule. To his right, he could see the sala with its fireplace and furniture. The vestibule before him was dim, but the sala was bright with candle light. Diego de la Vega and his servant were waiting in the vestibule with their hats in their hands. Lozano ducked behind a large vase sporting a leafy plant where he would be able to see without being seen. He pressed himself against the wall and waited.

In moments, the servant returned. "Señor de la Vega, the Señora Florintina will see you in a moment. She asks if you will wait for her in the sala?"

"Graciás," said Diego, handing his hat to the servant. Bernardo did likewise and followed his master into the sala. The house servant placed both hats on the narrow table located in the vestibule for just that purpose. Then he went into the sala as well.

"May I get you some wine, Señor?" he asked.

"No, thank you. We will just wait for the Señora," said Diego.

The servant bowed and left the room.

In just a few moments, Doña Florintina entered the sala followed by the servant. She paused and said, "Pablo, please go and stay with the children. I do not want them to be alone if they should awaken."

"Sí, Señora," said the servant, as he bowed and left to do her bidding. When they were alone, Florintina turned her attention back to Diego.

Diego came to her immediately and took her hands. "Señora, I came once again to see if there is anything you need," he said. "Anything at all."

"No, Diego, thank you," said Doña Florintina sadly. "I only wish for my husband to return home to me."

Diego was surprised. "Oh? He has not returned?"

Doña Florintina shook her head solemnly. "No, he was at the very farthest reaches of the rancho today and the vaqueros sent to find him must be having a difficult time." She paused to look down. "He must come home soon. I, . . . I need him," she said, as Diego released her hands so that she might use her handkerchief to dab at her eyes.

"Certainly you need him, Señora. I'm sure he will be returning soon," said Diego, offering what comfort he could. "I wanted to let you know that the Magistrado and the lancers from the cuartel are continuing to search the hills for the outlaw at this very moment. Hopefully, they will find little Eduardo and return him to you this very evening."

Doña Florintina paused in her tears, and gently smiled up at him. "Oh, Diego, you bring me the best gift of all. The gift of hope." Diego returned her smile.

Their attention was drawn to the vestibule where the door opened and a man walked in, taking off his hat and gloves which he tossed upon the small table next to Diego's hat. His face was set in a mask of grief and hardness.

"Alfredo!" cried Florintina softly, as she went to throw herself into the arms of her husband.

Don Alfredo gathered his wife into his arms and they remained in an embrace. Doña Florintina was sobbing uncontrollably again and Don Alfredo's face softened as he held her. After a few moments, he helped her return to the sala where he sat with her on the couch. He seemed not to have noticed Diego or Bernardo, who were doing their best to remain unobtrusive.

"My beloved, my beloved," he said over and over to his wife as he stroked her hair and rocked her gently in his arms. It was another moment or two before he noticed his visitors.

"Diego, please excuse me," he said rising, but still holding to Florintina's hands. "I did not mean to ignore my guests."

Diego waved his hand and said, "Do not concern yourself, Don Alfredo. I came to see if there is any way I can be of service."

"I do not know, Don Diego," said Don Alfredo, looking rather lost. "I am far away from home tending to my business with the shepherds when a vaquero comes with the news that my eldest son has been kidnaped. Kidnaped by Zorro." He looked up at Diego, "How can this be? Despite his outlaw ways, Zorro has been a friend of the people. He once saved my life and I was grateful. But now, . . . how can he do this to me?" He looked down at Don Florintina. "To us. What has happened to him?"

How Diego wished that he could respond to Don Alfredo's words! But of course, he could not. "I do not know, Don Alfredo," he was forced to say. "I do not understand it myself. These rumors of his armies and the robbing of the peons, . . ." he shook his head. "It is not like the real Zorro at all."

Behind him, Bernardo's eyes fixed upon his master. He knew Diego had slipped. He could only hope that Don Alfredo did not attach any significance to the remark. He was disappointed.

"The real Zorro?" said Don Alfredo. "What do you mean, the real Zorro?"

Diego realized immediately he had said too much. This was the problem he faced every time he tried to speak of Zorro, or rather, the man impersonating the outlaw: how to let anyone know that the man dragging Zorro's name through the dust was an imposter without revealing how he knew this. As yet, the answer to that thorny question continued to elude him. However, he was saved from having to answer Don Alfredo's question by Doña Florintina who regained her husband's attention. Unnoticed by anyone was Bernardo's silent sigh of relief as the lady of the house spoke.

"Oh, Alfredo, that evil man said he would deliver a message to you explaining what you must do to get our son back," she said, clinging to Don Alfredo's hand.

"Has such a message been delivered?" asked Don Alfredo earnestly.

"No, my husband, it has not," Doña Florintina answered.

Diego glanced meaningfully at Bernardo, who nodded almost imperceptibly. That answered one question.

During this exchange, Lozano looked behind him and down the other hallway of the hacienda while at the same time keeping an eye on the people in the sala. He knew what he was going to do with Zorro's ransom note. Silently, he crept out from behind his leafy cover and went to the small table in the vestibule. There, he lifted Don Alfredo's gloves and placed the message in the crown of the don's upturned hat, careful to conceal it beneath the gloves, which he replaced exactly as Don Alfredo had left them. Then he slipped back into his hiding place behind the large vase. He stopped to listen a moment more. He knew that the Magistrado would find the conversation in the sala an interesting one.

"Did he say when it would be delivered?" said Don Alfredo to his wife. "I must know just what it is he wants from me. To find out what I must do to get my son back."

"No, he did not say," said Doña Florintina, dabbing at her eyes again. "He only said there would be instructions at a later time."

"A later time, . . . ," muttered Don Alfredo.

Diego took this moment to speak. "Don Alfredo. Please. When these 'instructions' do come, please contact the Magistrado or myself. Do nothing until you speak to one of us."

"I must do what I think necessary to assure the safety of my son, Diego," said Don Alfredo solemnly. "When I see the message, I will decide what I will do."

"I beg you to do nothing foolish, Don Alfredo," said Diego earnestly. Before he could speak further, he was interrupted.

In a stern voice, Don Alfredo said, "Diego, I thank you for the sympathy you have expressed for our plight, but I think that I am capable of making my own decisions in this matter." The older man drew himself up, his ire being raised by the younger man's use of the word "foolish".

"I beg your pardon if I have offended you, Don Alfredo," said Diego regretfully. He realized that the older man considered that he, a much younger man, had overstepped his bounds. "I meant no disrespect. It is just that the Magistrado is the King's representative in matters of law and I am his assistant deputy. This outlaw has broken the law by kidnaping your son. It would seem to be a matter for the Magistrado's office to handle. Again, I ask you to do nothing until you have spoken to one of us."

Don Alfredo's face was carved in stone. "While you are a fine young man and the son of my dearest friend, you do not have the . . .shall we say, . . . 'experience' necessary to do anything which will help us. I'm sorry, Diego, but that is how it is."

Diego clenched his jaws as he raised his chin in response. Bernardo could see the broad shoulders of his young master tighten as the comments found their mark in his breast. Don Alfredo had charitably used the word "experience" when he would have used the word "ability" were he not trying to be kind, and Bernardo knew it. Diego knew it too. It seemed that remarks like this, which once were passed off more easily by the young man, found their target more readily since Diego had embarked upon his new path with the Magistrado. Diego was so much more than they could know, Bernardo thought to himself, and yet he still could not overcome his created image even with the fine work he was doing as an assistant to the Magistrado. And this desire to overcome his assumed image was growing stronger as time went on.

Because of the seriousness of the moment, Diego swallowed his emotions. A child's life was at stake. This was the first consideration. With a conscious effort of his will, he set aside his personal feelings as he tried once more to sway Don Alfredo into a safer course. "But the Magistrado, . . ." he began.

Don Alfredo broke in. "I have given you my answer to that, Diego," he said with finality.

Doña Florintina looked from her husband's face to that of Diego's and saw the earnest concern in the younger man's eyes. She felt sorry for the young don who had only come to offer his services, however small they might have been. Rising, she extended her hands to Diego and drew him with her as she spoke. "Diego, thank you for coming. You have been most gracious to offer your help." She and Diego entered the vestibule, followed by Bernardo. Don Alfredo remained in the sala, turning to stare into the fireplace. Florintina continued, "But as you can see, my husband will do what he thinks is best." She picked up Diego's hat and handed it to him.

"Señora, I apologize if I have caused offense with my words, but I am very concerned that you should do nothing without consulting the Magistrado," Diego said. He looked again at Don Alfredo in the sala, whose back was still turned to them.

Florintina turned to look at her husband for a moment and then back at Diego. She gave him a small smile. "I wish you and your servant a pleasant journey home this evening," she said quietly.

Realizing that he was being gently dismissed, Diego could only bow to her wishes. "Your servant, Doña Florintina," he said graciously. Seeing Don Alfredo was watching them now, he bowed respectfully to the older man who only nodded in return. Sighing to himself, Diego motioned to Bernardo to follow as he placed his hat upon his head and went out into the courtyard. Bernardo picked up his hat and followed. Pausing a few steps down the path, Diego looked back to see Doña Florintina nod to him once and quietly close the door. The sounds of the night were all that could be heard in the quiet darkness. Squaring his shoulders, Diego began striding toward the gate in the outer courtyard wall.

Lozano started to leave as Diego was saying good night to Florintina, but then he decided he could safely remain hidden and continue to spy upon Don Alfredo. He had to make sure the don found the ransom note and see if the man drew the proper conclusions about who had delivered it. After that, he knew Santiago would want to know what Don Alfredo's reactions were and what he planned to do about the note. So he kept his place.

Diego rode into the darkness with Bernardo at his side. When they were out of earshot of the vaqueros guarding the hacienda, Diego pulled up. "Well, Bernardo, we accomplished nothing back there except to find out that the message from the imposter has not yet been delivered." Bernardo mimed something. Diego was forced to shrug. "Yes, Don Alfredo can be a stubborn man. But so can I. We will do what we set out to do. You take the west side of the hacienda and I will take the east. Watch for anyone moving toward the hacienda. We must capture whoever the messenger is. If you should find yourself in a difficulty you cannot handle, fire your pistol and I will come. Of course, so will all of Don Alfredo's vaqueros, so don't fire it unless it is absolutely necessary." Bernardo nodded. Diego clapped him on the shoulder and sent his horse galloping away in a large circular route which would take him to his post on the eastern side of the hacienda. Bernardo went to find the best place from which to monitor the hacienda from his direction. Both men were quickly in place and settled down to begin their watch. It promised to be a long, cold night.

Inside the hacienda, Don Alfredo checked upon each of his children who were safely tucked into their beds. He kissed each one tenderly and made sure their blankets were pulled all the way up to keep them warm. Florintina followed him and placed her own kiss upon their foreheads. Telling Pablo to remain with the children, both of them returned to the sala to sit upon the couch and hold each other. Don Alfredo asked Florintina to tell him all that had happened, going over everything two or three times. He still could not understand why the outlaw had turned to kidnaping an innocent child in addition to his other recent crimes. Where, he wanted to know, was his Eduardo and was he safe? Was he still alive? No, he would not even think like that. There had to be a reason for the outlaw to kidnap Eduardo and he would just have to wait until the instructions were delivered. The Magistrado was doing what he could by searching the hills for Eduardo, but Don Alfredo knew the folly of that effort. Everyone knew Zorro could just disappear whenever he wished to and no one could find him if he did not wish to be found.

Still, there was that burning within him which wanted nothing more than to get on a fresh horse and scour the countryside for Eduardo himself. How could he not? He tried to contain it, but the feeling built up inside of him until he had to move. He rose and went to the vestibule, picking up his hat and gloves. Florintina was right at his side.

"What are you going to do, my husband?" she asked.

"I must go and try to find Eduardo," he said. "That message might not ever come. It is so late now. I cannot sit idle any longer."

"The Magistrado and all of his soldiers are doing that," said Florintina, restating what Don Alfredo had already told himself. "What can you do out there that they are not?" she asked. "Zorro said there would be instructions. If you are not here when they are delivered, how will I ever find you? Alfredo, I need you here, . . . here with me. You must be here when the instructions are delivered so we can have our son back. Promise me that you will wait here," she pleaded. "Promise?" Taking his arm, she drew him back into the sala.

Shaking his head slowly, Don Alfredo allowed himself to be pulled into the sala. Sighing, he said, "My beloved, you tear my heart. But I will stay with you." Florintina smiled up at him gently through her grief. He said, "I will just go and speak with the vaqueros standing guard and make sure everything is all right." Florintina nodded and took the gloves from her husband as he prepared to put on his hat. Don Alfredo stopped as he noticed a piece of paper tucked inside of it. He removed the paper and handed his hat to Florintina.

"What is it?" she asked as she watched Don Alfredo open the folded paper.

"It is a note," he said. As he scanned its contents, his face lost all color.

Alarmed, Florintina said, "What is it, Alfredo?"

"It is the ransom note."

"But how, . . . ? How did it come to be in your hat?" she asked.

"I do not know. The only time my hat was out of my sight all day was when I placed it on the table when I came home. I am sure this was not in it then."

"But the only others who were near your hat tonight were Diego and that servant of his . . . when they left this evening," said Florintina. "Pablo was with the children." She looked at her husband questioningly. "Surely you do not think Diego, . . .?" She trailed off.

Don Alfredo pressed his lips together tightly. "I do not know what to think. I only know what the facts seem to say," he said as he stared at the folded paper. "I placed my hat on the table and now I find this note. If not Diego, then who?" Florintina could only shake her head. _Could Diego somehow be mixed up in this whole affair,_ Don Alfredo wondered. _What reason would he have?_ He had no need of money and he had a promising job with the Magistrado even if he was so "inexperienced." It just did not make any sense for him to be involved in such a vile thing as a kidnaping. But Diego was so changed since his return from Spain. Could something have happened to him there? He was such a mystery to everyone, including his own father. It was certainly true that he no longer had his father's respect despite the fact the elder de la Vega still loved the boy. Something fundamental was different about Diego and that was all Don Alfredo knew.

Seeing the doubt in her husband's eyes, Florintina said, "Not Diego?" From his hidden corner, Lozano was pleased. This was just the suspicion he wanted cast upon the young don.

Shaking his head, Don Alfredo said, "I do not know. We have no answer to that; only our speculations. But we forget the more important thing here. Even if Diego is somehow involved, he is just the messenger. There is a more immediate concern in this," he said, pointing to the paper in his hand. "Listen to what the note says. _'If you wish to see your son alive again, you will have until eight o'clock tomorrow night to bring ten thousand pesos to Santa Barbara.'."_ Florintina gasped at the amount. Don Alfredo glanced at her, then continued. _"'You will tell no one and you will come alone. You will be watched. Take the money to the church, after dark and not before, and place it beneath the bench in the confessional. Then you will take a room at the Inn of the Roses and wait. Do not leave your room or the boy dies. If I see you have followed my instructions exactly, you will be notified where the boy may be found. Remember, you will be watched.'_ It is signed, Zorro." He continued to stare at the paper.

"So much money," whispered Florintina.

Without a word, Don Alfredo turned and went to his desk, and, unlocking a drawer, pulled out a strong box. It made a loud, solid thump when he put it on the desk. Their eyes met. There was no other answer. There could be no other choice. They would do whatever Zorro asked of them in order that they might hope to have their son back alive. Taking a key from another drawer, he opened the box. Inside, there were several pouches full of coins. Throwing the note aside, Don Alfredo sat down and began counting. Florintina came to stand beside him as she watched.

Lozano also watched from his concealment. He was mesmerized by the stacks of pesos. These landowners are filthy rich, he thought to himself. He wondered if there would be some way to get his hands on that kind of money someday. But he dared not touch any of this money until the Magistrado gave him permission. He valued his neck too highly for that.

When Don Alfredo was done, he had counted seven thousand, three hundred and fifty pesos. It was exactly the amount which he knew was there all along, but he had wanted to count it to be sure. He was two thousand six hundred and fifty pesos short. He ran his hand through his hair and stared at the stacks of coins lined up on his desk as he slumped back against his chair. Where would he get such a sum in so short a time? There wasn't time to arrange for the sale of any cattle or horses, or to sell any of their possessions. He did not notice that Florintina had gone until she came back, holding something which glittered in her hands. She placed the items in front of him.

Looking up at her, he said, "Not your grandmother's jewels. They were given to her by the Queen herself."

Florintina drew herself up and said, "Without my son, they are worthless, my husband. They should be sufficient to make up the difference, is this not so?"

"Yes, but, . . ."

"Then you will take them." It was clear she would not take no for an answer.

Don Alfredo picked up the brooch and the earrings which were covered in diamonds and rubies, and placed them in an empty pouch. Then he reached under the desk and pulled out a richly tooled leather bag, one which was meant to hang from the horn of the saddle. Taking all the coins, he replaced them within the money pouches and put them one by one into the bag. Then looking at Florintina, he carefully placed the pouch containing the jewels on top. He fastened the straps to close the leather bag. Florintina nodded. He stood up with the bag in his hand as if he was ready to leave at that very moment.

Florintina put her hand upon his arm. "My husband, I want Eduardo back as soon as possible also, but there will be plenty of time to ride to Santa Barbara if you leave in the morning. The instructions say you must be at the church after dark." She pointed to the paper. "Remember too, the note said you will be watched. What will they think if you go riding off into the night? Will they not think you have gone to report to the Magistrado? You must pass by Los Angeles on your way to Santa Barbara and they will mistake your purpose. We cannot risk that, Alfredo. They might kill our son." Don Alfredo looked sharply at her. More gently, with tears in her eyes, she said, "You are tired. You need to rest for such a long journey and I, . . . I need to have you beside me this night." Her tears began to fall.

Don Alfredo put the saddlebag down and embraced Florintina. Stroking her hair, he said, "You are right, my beloved. As you usually are. I need not leave before mid-morning to arrive at Santa Barbara after dark." Smiling sadly, he kissed her and she clung to him. Putting the bag of money into the desk drawer, Don Alfredo locked it. Then he held out his hand to Florintina, whom he pulled close to him as they walked toward their bedroom. Neither one of them expected to find any sleep this night, but they would find what comfort there was within each other's arms.

Neither of them knew when Lozano slipped back down the hallway and out of the guest bedroom window closing it behind him. Keeping to the shadows and the cover of the large oaks, he regained the spot near the wall where he had first entered the courtyard. Lozano clambered silently up and over the wall, running away into the darkness in the opposite direction from the guards. He would circle around and make his way to the horse he had left tied up away from the hacienda. Then he would go back to Los Angeles to make his report to the Magistrado.


	31. B2 Ch4: Zorro Must be Stopped

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter 4 – _Zorro Must be Stopped_**

Don Alejandro had returned late from working with the Verde Valley herd. It was well after dark and he was very tired. He left his horse in the care of the vaqueros and paused only a moment to knock the dust from his clothing before he went into the hacienda. No one was in the kitchen, but there was a kettle over the fire in the hearth from which savory aromas filled the air. His stomach rumbled in anticipation. He would just get cleaned up and then have his supper. As he walked through the house, he met Old Juan who was coming towards him. He frowned as he saw the stressed look on the older peon's face.

"Patron, have you heard the news?" Juan asked him in worried tones.

"What news?" Don Alejandro questioned.

"Oh, Patron, it is terrible!" Juan exclaimed. "The eldest son of Don Alfredo Caldón has been kidnaped. Kidnaped by Zorro!"

"What?" exclaimed Don Alejandro. "What did you say?"

"Sí, Don Alejandro," said Juan. "It is said that Zorro came and took the child right from the garden of his home today while Don Alfredo was away. The mother, Doña Florintina, saw the whole thing."

"Zorro kidnaped . . . ," Don Alejandro trailed off. Until now, the things Zorro had done since his return had been mostly hearsay from a pueblo in the far reaches of the district. That he had shot the soldier, Lugo, there was no doubt, but he was being pursued by the soldiers and that action might be expected as he tried to defend himself. Don Alejandro had tried to give Zorro the benefit of the doubt. Many mysterious things went on around the bandido, but they usually turned out to be beneficial in the end. He certainly had cause to be thankful to the outlaw as he had saved his life on more than one occasion. But this, . . . this was beyond the bounds of reason. No one who kidnaped a child could be excused. Not even Zorro. "What is being done about it?" he questioned Juan.

"I have heard that the Magistrado and the soldiers are out looking for them, Patron," said Old Juan.

"And Don Alfredo?"

"I do not know, Patron," said Juan. "He was not at home when his child was taken. He was out with some vaqueros, somewhere in the hills of his rancho. It is said he stays overnight in one of the houses of the rancheros when he is far from home, just as you sometimes do. He might not come home until tomorrow. There are men out searching for him now."

Don Alejandro knew he would not be able to sit by and do nothing. "Go and fetch Raul," he ordered. "And have Gilberto and Miguel saddle fresh horses. Right away!"

Old Juan bowed and said, "Sí, Patron!" as he scurried off to do Don Alejandro's bidding.

Don Alejandro went into the sala while he waited. Raul came quickly. "Raul. I want you and the others to ride to all the other dons in the area and tell them to come here. We must meet and decide what to do to help Don Alfredo. One of you is to go to Don Alfredo's hacienda and find out what you can and report back here. Hurry!"

"Sí, Patron!" said Raul. He ran toward the back of the house.

Crescensia came in then and seeing that Don Alejandro knew the latest news, said, "Would you like some beef stew, Don Alejandro? You must be famished."

"No!" said Don Alejandro loudly. Then he relented as he saw the hurt look on Crescensia's face. "I am sorry, Crescensia," he said, softening a little. "I am just angry that Zorro has taken Eduardo."

Smiling a little in understanding, Crescensia said, "I understand, Don Alejandro. It is a terrible thing. Who would have thought Zorro would do such? But please, you should eat something. If you are going to be up all night talking to the other men, you will need your strength."

"All right," said Don Alejandro, giving in to his hunger. "I will be in the library. You can bring my supper there. Be sure and bring wine and glasses for the men when they arrive."

"Sí, Don Alejandro," said Crescensia.

Don Alejandro was finished with his supper and had even changed clothing by the time the other dons arrived well past eleven o'clock in the evening. They were all just as appalled as he was that Don Alfredo's son had been taken, but none of them had any fresh news about the search for the outlaw. There was a consensus among the dons concerning Zorro, however.

"I believe the Magistrado is right about El Zorro," said a stern Don Tomas Yorba. "He has turned against us. I never did believe this outlaw could do as much good as was attributed to him. He is only looking out for himself. This kidnaping is the proof of it. He must be captured and brought to justice, or killed. We cannot afford to have him loose among us." The other dons nodded or added their agreement.

"He must be caught and hanged," said Don Carlos in his cold voice.

Despite his reluctance, Don Alejandro was forced to concede to their point of view. Any man who would rob the poor and kidnap young boys was no man he wished to grant any leeway under the law. Holding up his hand to quiet the men, he said, "All right. Now we must decide what we are going to do about it."

"What would you suggest, Don Alejandro?" said one of the men.

"I say that we assemble in the pueblo at first light and begin a search for ourselves. We know this country as well or better than the soldiers." There were nods all around.

"But what about Don Alfredo?" asked Don Emilio. "We must know what is going on with him before we do anything."

Before Don Alejandro could answer, there was a knock at the door. "Come!" he called out.

Taking off his hat, Raul entered the library. "Raul. What have you to report?" he asked.

"Patron. Don Alfredo has returned to his hacienda and has been told the news. The vaquero I spoke to said they are waiting for the instructions from Zorro about the ransom."

"Ransom!" exclaimed several of the dons, indignant that one of their own was being treated in this manner, though it was not totally unexpected.

Ramon glanced at the other men and then looked back at Don Alejandro. "Sí, a ransom. Don Alfredo is not going to leave his hacienda until he hears what are the terms of Zorro's ransom."

"Has anyone reported the progress of the search being conducted by the Magistrado?" asked Don Alejandro.

"They have heard nothing, Patron, but the vaquero said Don Diego and his servant had come and stayed for a little while. They left shortly after Don Alfredo returned home."

Don Alejandro was surprised. Diego was not at home now. Where could his son be at this hour? Then he snorted to himself. When did he ever know where Diego was when he was gone late at night? Gone to the tavern, likely as not, or somewhere else. He felt some of the anger returning which he had felt at sunrise when he had seen Diego returning from the hills. What was he doing out there anyway? He still did not have any answers to that question. At any rate, Diego would not be missed when they went to search for little Eduardo. He would just be in the way. Dismissing Diego from his immediate thoughts, he returned to the matter at hand.

"Graciás, Raul. You may go." Bowing, Raul turned and left the room. Turning back to the men, Don Alejandro said, "Señores. We must do all we can to help find the child and see that Zorro is captured. This night is far spent. Go home and get what sleep you can. We will meet as I have said at dawn in the pueblo. Perhaps the Magistrado will have good news for us there. If not, we will conduct our own search. Is this agreed?" There were nods all around. Even Don Carlos agreed. "Then I will bid you good night and see you in the pueblo in the morning. Allow me to show you to your horses, Señores." He ushered the men out of the door.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Sleep eluded the elder de la Vega. As he lay in his bed waiting for morning, Don Alejandro thought about Zorro. In the course of time, he had come to imagine that he knew the man behind the mask. Not the name of the man, of course, but who he was. Like others, he had vacillated in his opinion at first. Who could believe that a man who kept his face hidden could be on the side of justice and the right? He had admired the man for the way he had harried and tweaked Monastario, keeping him from exercising the worst of his tendencies to extract what he could from the people. He was grateful to the man for saving his life. He had turned on Zorro briefly when Carlos Galindo, assigned as Magistrado under the rule of José Varga, had used his power and influence to cause Don Alejandro to think that Zorro was responsible for the growing unrest and anarchy threatening the district, and all of California, for that matter. But then, Zorro had proven just what an underhanded man Galindo had been when he had tried to frame Capitán Toledano. Even Toledano seemed to recognize that Zorro was a man of honor behind the mask. Then there was the battle in the pueblo when they held off Varga and his men. Don Alejandro knew without a doubt that without Zorro's help, they would have been overrun long before Don Alfredo and the citizen's army could arrive. And, according to the soldiers who had been locked in the jail, Zorro had brought the Eagle to earth as they dueled with flashing swords in the cuartel compound, setting up the moment when the Eagle's own man, Greco, had fired upon him, killing him.

But then there was the total disappearance of the outlaw for almost a year. Where had he gone? For that matter, where did he come from? And while he had been gone, what had happened to him? It was clear that Zorro was changed. He now broke the law for his own gain it would seem. The Magistrado was a very intelligent man and it was his considered opinion that Zorro was trying to raise an army of his own to overthrow the lawful government of California. Don Alejandro had found nothing amiss in the character or the work performed by Santiago which would cause him to doubt what the Magistrado had to say. He was willing to give credence to Santiago's views concerning the outlaw. The kidnaping of his friend's child by the outlaw cemented the view. No man could do this and get away with it. Not as long as Don Alejandro had anything to say about it. But Don Alejandro knew it would not be easy to catch the outlaw. He had eluded every trap set for him and evaded capture at every turn. He was as wily as his namesake. But he must be taken. He must be stopped now, before he could do any more damage. Before he could make his attempt to overthrow the government.

Resolved to this, Don Alejandro finally fell into a restless sleep.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

"You did what?" exclaimed Santiago. Immediately he regretted his outburst, but the news brought to him by Lozano had taken him by surprise and he did not like surprises. He stood facing the man across the desk in his office.

"I caused it to appear that Diego de la Vega was responsible for delivering the ransom note to the hacienda of Don Alfredo," said Lozano, rather more meekly than he had said it the first time.

It was nearly midnight, and Santiago was tired, dusty and hungry from the fruitless search for the outlaw. But all of that was forgotten now. He pulled his sword in one fluid motion and in a flash, placed its tip at Lozano's throat. "Tell me all of it," he said, his dark eyes blazing. "Leave nothing out."

Lozano began at the moment he saw Diego riding up to the hacienda and concluded with Don Alfredo and his wife counting out the ransom money. His Adam's apple could feel the hard prick of Santiago's sword as he spoke, and he fancied that he could feel the sweat pouring down his neck, or was it blood? He dared not touch it to find out.

Santiago stared at him for a moment when he was finished, then swept the sword away, cutting the air with it several times before returning it to its scabbard. Lozano gasped in relief and his hand automatically rubbed his throat. "You are a most fortunate fool, Lozano," said Santiago, with a slight smile. "Fortunate you were not discovered. However, I must confess that I quite like what you have done. It will not of itself make the case against Diego de la Vega, but it will put another nail in his coffin. When this is brought out at the trial, everyone will see the immediate connection." Santiago chuckled. "It was quite inspired at that." He unlocked a drawer in his desk and pulled out a small bag full of coins. "Here," he said, tossing them to Lozano. "Take these. Divide them evenly between you and Uresti, then take half of his share for your own. He was careless and let the boy's hat fall where that stupid corporal of mine could find it. You must go to him tonight and tell him to ride on to his camp at Santa Barbara with the boy at once. Tomorrow, the soldiers will be searching the hills where he is now. If he grumbles, tell him it is his own fault and remind him that I will accept no further mistakes." Lozano nodded.

Santiago said, "I expect to receive the note from Hildalgo in the morning stating he has 'captured' Tomaso, which will be the excuse I need to send Diego de la Vega to Santa Barbara. I trust you were able to impress upon our friend, Tomaso, that he must not fail me?"

"Sí, Magistrado," said Lozano, with what he hoped was confidence. He had done his best to put fear into the small man should he fail the Magistrado.

Santiago gripped his sword meaningfully and continued. "Good. For your sake, he'd better perform well. We come to a critical time in my plans, Lozano. De la Vega will be in Santa Barbara by tomorrow as will Don Alfredo, thanks to your able delivery of the ransom note. Capitán Hidalgo has his orders and I am sure he will execute them just as I wish. Uresti will be there with the boy. You and I will arrive there by tomorrow night on the coach just in time to monitor the whole thing. Our weakest link is that little mouse, Tomaso, but I tell you now, he is completely expendable if something goes wrong. Should that happen, I will tell you of my alternative plan. It is not as elegant, but it will serve to accomplish my purpose. Before tomorrow night is over, Diego de la Vega will be my prisoner." Santiago's eyes flashed and a feral smile spread itself over his face which made Lozano very grateful that he was not the Magistrado's intended victim.

"Now off with you to Uresti's camp," ordered Santiago. "Oh, and after he is gone, make sure that you erase all traces of the camp and erase his back trail for at least a mile, two, if you have time before the sun rises. His horse has a shoe which leaves a distinctive mark. I do not want any of the soldiers to find that track, understand?"

"Sí, Magistrado," said Lozano, bowing slightly.

Santiago unbuckled his sword belt and laid it upon the desk, saying, "I am tired, Lozano, and am going to bed. Do not be late tomorrow. Go now."

"Sí, Magistrado." Lozano turned and went out of the door. As he walked down the stairs and over to his horse, taking care that no one saw him, he grumbled under his breath. "He is tired? I am the one who is going to have to spend the whole night riding to Uresti's camp and erasing his trail, while the Magistrado sleeps in a nice warm bed." Sighing, he jingled the coins in his pocket. This eased his discomfort somewhat. The Magistrado had been pleased with his work this night. That was good. And he could sleep in the coach on the way to Santa Barbara tomorrow. He would be fine. Mounting his horse, he rode away into the hills.


	32. B2 Ch5: Momentous Meeting

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter 5 – _Momentous Meeting_**

Morning came, and with it, great disappointment. There had been no messenger to deliver any instructions from the kidnapers to Don Alfredo. Diego and Bernardo had spent the whole night vainly searching the darkness for any sign of such a messenger, but they had seen nothing. A few small creatures of the night and the vaqueros guarding the hacienda had been the only things stirring in the darkness. Diego scrubbed his face with his hands. He had not slept in two days. His eyes stung and he wished he had some water to throw on his face, but that would have to wait until he could return home. The eastern sky was showing the first hints of pink and the sun would soon be up. He must be home before he was missed and then he would have to present himself at the Magistrado's office on time or face questions he did not wish to answer. Wondering how much luck the Magistrado had in tracking down the imposter, he sincerely hoped for the best. It did not matter if he and Bernardo had spent a useless night in the cold if the child was found and returned safely to Doña Florintina. That was the important thing. However, he would just have to wait to find out what had happened until he rode into Los Angeles.

Gathering the reins of his horse, he mounted and went in search of Bernardo, keeping well out of sight of the hacienda. Bernardo spotted him when he was still distant and responded to Diego's signal. He mounted his horse and rode over.

"I'm afraid we have spent a long night out here for nothing, Bernardo," said Diego, scanning the hills around them. "It will be light soon and I do not believe that the messenger will show himself in the daylight." Bernardo nodded to agree. He noticed how very tired his young master looked. He mimed sleeping. Diego grimaced. "Unfortunately, I will have to forgo that pleasure. I must be in Los Angeles at my usual time or there will be questions. You take a nap for me, eh?" Bernardo nodded sleepily and then shook his head no. Pointing at Bernardo, Diego said, "One of us needs to get some sleep and it looks like you are the one. But don't think I will not envy you." They began riding toward the de la Vega hacienda.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Santiago awakened refreshed. He had thought he might have been too keyed up to fall asleep, but the long ride with the soldiers had tired him. However, this morning he awoke with the thought that today, or rather tonight, the first major part of his plans would come to fruition. Santiago congratulated himself that, through his meticulous planning and almost flawless execution, neither of the de la Vegas realized they were in danger. The young and naive Diego de la Vega still looked up to him as a mentor and a role model even as he was standing on the brink of destruction. Old Don Alejandro was also standing on the brink of destruction, but of another sort. In the end, he would be just a shell of a man when he found out that his only son and heir was the most hated thing in the old don's life: a traitor. It would be an easy thing to manipulate the old man into giving up his holdings for next to nothing once his heart and spirit were broken by the ignoble death which awaited his son on the gallows.

As Santiago shaved and dressed for the day, he smiled to himself. He picked up his sword, preparing to buckle it on, but stopped to finger the engraved initial on its hilt, once again admiring the cleverly wrought serpent form. Yes. His fatal strike, though long in the making, would be swift and sure this night. Then his mood sobered. He was reminded again that others before him had failed because they had let their pride and arrogance overcome their intelligence. He would take nothing for granted. That is why he was going to be in Santa Barbara this night. He had others who would carry out his orders, but he wanted to be there himself to make sure everything went smoothly. If, for some reason, his plot against Diego should go awry, like the serpent he admired he would recoil for another strike as deadly as the first. This time, the smile which greeted Santiago in his mirror as he smoothed his hair one last time, was measured.

He paused at his desk in the sala to write three notes. One was an order for Diego to come with all haste to the pueblo and one was a reply to a message he had not yet received. He was expecting the military courier from Hidalgo at any moment. He already knew the contents of the document from Hidalgo, having orchestrated the events himself. It just remained to be seen whether the capitán had carried out his orders adequately. The last one contained the orders for Diego to interrogate Tomaso, which he would give to the assistant deputy before he left this morning.

Picking up his hat and gloves, he prepared to go out into the plaza. His orders had been for Sergeant Garcia and the lancers to be ready to ride out to resume the search at one hour past dawn. He would again be at the head of the soldiers, presenting to everyone in the pueblo the picture of the valorous Magistrado, leading the troops to rescue the kidnaped boy. A boy who was by now no longer anywhere near Los Angeles.

A knock came at his front door and he went to open it himself. A military courier was standing there at attention. "A message for you, Your Excellency," he said, presenting a sealed document to the Magistrado. "It is from Capitán Hidalgo, from the garrison at Santa Barbara."

Santiago took the document and said, "Graciás. You may wait for me at the cuartel. There may be a reply." The courier bowed and left.

Santiago broke open the seal and read the document. He smiled. This was his official notice that Tomaso had been "captured" in Santa Barbara and was awaiting questioning by the Magistrado in connection with the affair of his involvement with the outlaw Zorro. This was the notice he would use to send young de la Vega to Santa Barbara. He was extremely pleased at the excellent timing of the "capture" and the arrival of the notice. He would have to be sure and complement Hidalgo the next time he saw the man. He folded the notice and tucked it under his belt.

Leaving his house, Santiago saw the sun was only just peeking above the eastern horizon. From across the plaza, he could hear Garcia calling orders to the lancers as they prepared for the day's activities. He walked across the plaza and into the cuartel.

"Sergeant Garcia!" he called out.

Garcia immediately left what he was doing and came to Santiago, saluting smartly. "Sí, Magistrado?" he said.

"Sergeant, I want you to send one of the sentries to the de la Vega hacienda with a note for Don Diego. It is urgent." He gave one of the folded papers in his hand to the sergeant.

"Sí, Magistrado," said Garcia. Turning, he pointed to one of the sentries posted by the gate. "You, Martinez. Come here," he ordered. "Take this note to Don Diego at his hacienda immediately. You will ride like the wind." Martinez saluted both Santiago and Garcia, then ran to get a horse. In moments, he was on his way at a gallop.

"Very good, Sergeant," said Santiago.

"Graciás," said Garcia, basking in the praise.

"You may continue with your preparations, Sergeant," said Santiago. "I want to be on our way in one hour. Be sure the men and horses have a good breakfast. We may be searching for a long time."

"Sí, Your Excellency," said Garcia. "My lancers will be ready."

"Good. I will be at the tavern having my own breakfast. One hour, Sergeant," he reminded the portly officer.

"Sí, Your Excellency!" Garcia saluted again.

Motioning to the military courier, Santiago gave him a note which the man placed into his pouch. "See this gets to Capitán Hidalgo as soon as possible."

"Sí, Your Excellency!" said the courier who, ran to mount his horse. Santiago watched him leave with satisfaction. He could see the various parts of his plan coming together and it pleased him well.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

The sun's rays were just illuminating the tops of the hills as Diego and Bernardo managed to slip into the hacienda without anyone seeing them. They went immediately up to Diego's room.

"Draw me a bath, Bernardo," said Diego as he began taking off his clothes. Bernardo indicated that it would take time to warm the water. "No," said Diego. "I will just have to bathe in cold water. Besides, it will help to keep me awake." Bernardo faked shivering. Diego sat down on his bed to pull off his boots. "It can't be helped. Hurry. There is very little time." Bernardo set off at a run to the small room where the tub was kept. Diego finished removing his clothes and pulled on his blue robe. Tying the belt around his waist, he padded down the hall to the bathing room. Bernardo was just pouring in the last bucket of water. Diego said, "Go and bring me a clean suit then see about getting me something for breakfast." Bernardo nodded and left the room, closing the door. Diego slipped out of his robe and into the tub. He gasped more than a few times at the frigid temperature of the water. "Perhaps I should have let him warm one bucket of water," he commented under his breath as he tried to keep his teeth from chattering. One thing was certain. He was no longer only half awake.

By the time he was finished bathing, Bernardo was back with his change of clothes and some food and a steaming mug of chocolate on a tray. Quickly drying himself, he dressed with Bernardo's able help. Then he grabbed the steaming mug and drank half of its contents. Immediately, some measure of warmth returned to him. Putting down the mug, he started the process of shaving and combing his hair. That done, he took the mug in one hand and the food in the other and walked back to his room. He sat down in the chair by his fireplace and ate his food. Bernardo asked if he wanted the fire lit. "No, I will not be here that long," he said. "I know you must be as tired as I, my friend, but I must ask you to go and see to my horse. I know he must have gotten more sleep than I did last night, but he will need a good feed and a quick currying before I ride him into the pueblo." Bernardo nodded and left on his master's errand.

Once again, Diego was reminded just how fortunate he was to have such a man in his employ. He was Diego's extra eyes and ears and totally devoted to Diego. He carried out his master's wishes without complaint even though he must be exhausted. He asked nothing in return but to be useful to Diego. No one could ask for anything more in a servant or a friend.

He finished his breakfast and drank the last of his chocolate, brushing the crumbs into the fireplace. He was startled by a knock at his bedroom door. Rising, he walked over to the door and opened it. Old Juan was there with a soldier. "Yes?" he said.

Holding out a folded piece of paper, the soldier said, "I have a message from the Magistrado. It is urgent."

Taking the piece of paper, Diego opened it and read:

 _"Diego, you must come to my office at once. I have an important assignment for you. Do not delay."_

It was signed by the Magistrado. Diego looked up at the soldier. "You may go. I will get my horse and follow you as quickly as I can." Martinez nodded, turned, and went down the stairs. Diego went back into his room to get his hat and gloves. He wondered just what this assignment could be. There was no mention of anything to do with the missing child or with the false Zorro. Diego hoped the Magistrado was not going to send him out on a unimportant assignment just to get him out of the way. He had displeased the Magistrado by trying to search for the illusive imposter himself and Santiago may have created the assignment to keep him busy and out of trouble. Sighing, Diego turned to Old Juan. "Where is my father?" he asked.

"He left here before sunrise, Don Diego," said the older servant. "He and some of the other dons were going to the pueblo to ride with the Magistrado in search of the missing child. He was very upset when he heard about the kidnaping."

Diego nodded. He would expect that of his father. Apparently his father had left the hacienda just before he and Bernardo came home, for they had seen nothing of him. As a matter of fact, he had seen almost nothing of his father since his return from Santa Barbara. The rift between them was wider than ever. Diego was beginning to feel as though his dream of reconciling with his father was more impossible now than it had ever been before. Shaking his head at the thought, he did find it within himself to wonder if his father and his fellow dons would receive a warmer reception than he and Bernardo had gotten from the Magistrado when they had tried to aid in the search.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Santiago had just sat down to his breakfast when he heard the thunderous clatter of many horses just outside the inn. In just moments, a group of about a dozen men came in. Santiago sized them up in a moment as he recognized Don Alejandro in the lead. He waited.

Don Alejandro walked directly up to the Magistrado's table and bowed slightly with his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Your Excellency," he said, "We are here to help in any way that we can to track down this outlaw and recover the son of Don Alfredo." He indicated the other dons who were waiting behind him. "All of these men, and myself, are the friends of Don Alfredo. We come armed and well mounted and place ourselves at your service."

"Greetings, Don Alejandro," said Santiago. "And to you, Señores," he said, indicating the other dons who bowed to acknowledge him. "I admire your willingness to place yourselves in danger in order to recover poor little Eduardo, but I think this is a matter for the military to handle. In just a few minutes, we will be heading back out to scour the hills, looking for the lair of this outlaw, Zorro."

"Your Excellency," said Don Alejandro, trying to maintain his composure. "I do not mean to presume upon your authority, but we all know your force is not so large that it can cover all the ground between here and the mountains. You will need all the help you can get and we cannot just sit by and do nothing. Zorro is a menace to all of us now. Don Alfredo may be just the beginning. Who among us will be next? We will do what we must to protect our homes and our families. All we want is for you to let us help you capture this outlaw and free Eduardo. Once Zorro is captured, . . . or killed, . . . the menace he poses will be over and the people can go about their business free from fear. Is this not what we all desire, Your Excellency?"

Santiago saw the other dons nodding as they agreed with Don Alejandro's words. Most of the dons were quite independent and prone to follow their own ways. The fact they followed Don Alejandro now showed once again what a force he was in this part of California. They were willing to follow his lead just as they had done on many other occasions. Santiago suppressed a smile. This was exactly why he had chosen Don Alejandro as his target for his plans. Without Don Alejandro to lead them, the other dons could be handled one by one. The great fabric of the landholders' fragile unity could be unraveled thread by thread once Don Alejandro's influence was broken. And it would not be very much longer now.

"Señores," he said. "I am humbled to have such dedicated men wish to place themselves at my command. You all know that there is danger in trying to track down this outlaw, do you not? He may injure or kill some of you." A few dons looked at each other. He waved his hand to indicate the surrounding countryside as he continued, "It is unconfirmed that Zorro has an army in those hills out there, but the rumors and the statements of some of his recent victims lead me to conclude that he is building a force of men. He may have two men with him, he may have fifty. We do not know. That is why I urge you to let the military handle this. They are trained for this kind of work. You are not."

Don Alejandro broke in, "Your pardon, Your Excellency, but you do not know these men as I do." He waved his hand to encompass the other dons. "Most of these men have bravely fought off bands of Indians and gangs of bandits during the early days of settling this land." Pointing behind him to indicate the plaza, he said, "We also fought against Varga's 'army' right here in this very pueblo and were victorious. We are no strangers to danger, Your Excellency, and we feel that we must go with you." Many of the dons seemed to agree with this. It spoke to their pride in themselves for what they had accomplished.

Santiago nodded as he contemplated Don Alejandro's words. What the old don said was true. But each of these men had their own lives, wives and children, and possessions to consider. At present, they, themselves, were not being attacked, it was just that one of their number was unfortunate enough to have had such an evil thing befall him. They were here now because they wanted to help Don Alfredo. Some from friendship, but some from the thought that it was expected of them. Expected of them by the elder de la Vega and they would not say no to him. Don Alejandro had played into his hands when he had said, _"Zorro is a menace to all of us now. Don Alfredo may be just the beginning. Who among us will be next?"_ That was exactly the atmosphere Santiago wished to create among the people of the district. They should be induced to wonder who among them might be Zorro's next victim. It would begin to undermine the unity which Don Alejandro was able to forge among them. Santiago decided to exploit this point.

He leaned forward and said, "One more thing. The harsh reality is that if Zorro is cornered, he may not only kill some of you, leaving your families to mourn your death, he may kill the very child you seek to rescue. Are you prepared to take that risk? That responsibility?" The dons looked at each other uncertainly. Ah, he had hit them. None of them wanted to be the cause of the boy's death. And linking it with their own deaths reminded them of the fragile safety of their own families. This was exactly the frame of mind he wished them to maintain. He could almost thank Don Alejandro for bringing the other men here to hear this.

As spokesman for the group, Don Alejandro said. "You do well to remind us what is at stake here, Your Excellency. It is the life of a boy. But I say that we cannot let a man like this Zorro see that he can do what he pleases without paying the ultimate price. If he is not captured and punished, others will come when they see our ability to protect ourselves is weak. They will bring more lawlessness and death when they come. We have seen it before. Need I mention the name of Varga again?" Several men raised their heads at the name being now mentioned a second time. It still had a great effect upon them. Don Alejandro continued. "I say we must stop this criminal now while we can. The justice served upon him will be an example to all others who would follow in his footsteps to keep away from us. We will do all we can to bring the boy home safely to his parents. But we must not be swayed from our purpose which is to see that this Zorro is brought to justice, one way or another. Is that not so, Your Excellency? We all must see that _'justice is served.'"_

Santiago saw that Don Alejandro's words were powerful with the dons. He smiled to hear his own words returned to him. Many of the men were nodding in agreement and talking in low tones among themselves. Very well. He would let them have their search. He would direct their paths just as he had directed the soldiers and let them search to their heart's content. They would find nothing. Uresti was by now safely at his camp in the hills above Santa Barbara while these men would be searching the empty lands around Los Angeles. If Lozano had done as he had been instructed, any signs of Uresti's camp were obliterated by now. Yes, let them search. Despite Don Alejandro's brave words, Santiago's seeds of fear had been planted and he was sure they had found fertile ground.

"Don Alejandro," he said. "You have persuaded me." He saw the relief in the older man's face, and a brief smile. "Come, let me finish my breakfast and then I will show you on the map where I want you and your men to concentrate your search while the soldiers and I conduct our own search in another area. We will arrange signals and meeting times."

"Graciás, Your Excellency," said Don Alejandro with a bow. "You will not be disappointed in our service to you. If you will excuse us, we will wait for you outside. We are eager to be on our way."

"Of course, Señor," said Santiago. "I will not be long." He followed Don Alejandro with his eyes as the older man gestured to his men to step outside. The old don took his position as the leader of the men seriously and one could see it in his proud bearing and demeanor. Santiago was sure that Don Alejandro felt that he and his men had deserved the right to conduct the search for the child in any case, but he had been gracious enough, in his mind, to allow the Magistrado to become their defacto leader. Santiago smiled. Such rigid pride was a brittle thing. One sharp blow and it would be shattered. And that blow was being prepared even now. He turned to the breakfast on the table before him with a healthy appetite.


	33. B2 Ch6: The Lamb

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **6 – _The Lamb_**

A very short time later, Santiago left the inn, adjusting his hat as he stepped outside. The disk of the sun was fully above the horizon now, and the shadows of the men and horses were long upon the plaza. The dons were gathered near the well and the lancers were forming up in front of the cuartel. Many of the peons who had come to sell their wares in the plaza were standing about in groups of three or four, talking among themselves about the gathering of men. Santiago adjusted his sword and walked over to the well.

He motioned to Sergeant Garcia. "Sergeant, over here, if you please." The portly sergeant walked over at once. "You have the map?" Santiago asked him.

"Sí, Your Excellency," said Garcia as he pulled out a folded map which had been tucked behind his white belt.

Santiago took it and spread it upon the edge of the well as Don Alejandro and the others gathered around. "Don Alejandro," he began as he put his finger on the map. "I think you and your men should search this area north and east of the de la Vega rancho. You, Don Alejandro, would be the most familiar with this land as it borders your own." Don Alejandro nodded in agreement. Santiago continued. "We have thoroughly searched the lands adjoining the mission and those east and north of Don Alfredo's hacienda. We will be concentrating in this area," he pointed to the hills where Uresti's camp had been. He had not seen any sign of Lozano, but he trusted that his operative had followed his instructions to the letter and any sign of the camp had been obliterated. "Are there any questions?"

"What of the signals you mentioned, Your Excellency?" asked Don Alejandro as he continued to study the map. He turned to look at Santiago. "How shall we communicate our findings?"

"Fire one shot into the air if you see any sign of the outlaw or the child," said Santiago. "We will come at once. If you do not find anything by noon, we will meet here." He pointed at the map again. "Here, at the boundary of your land and Don Alfredo's, we will decide our next course of action. Is this understood?" He looked at all the men who nodded in agreement. Then he spotted Lozano who was standing at the fringe of the group as an onlooker. Lozano nodded his head once and Santiago knew his instructions had been carried out with regard to Uresti and the boy. "Bueno," he said more to Lozano than to the dons. He turned to the elder de la Vega. "Don Alejandro. You and your men may set out at once. I have a few things which I must tend to before the lancers and I leave to begin our portion of the search."

Don Alejandro touched the brim of his hat as he acknowledged Santiago. "Your Excellency," he said. Then to his men he said, "Come, let us be off." They were soon mounted and rode at a gallop out of the pueblo.

Just as they cleared the plaza, Diego rode in. He waved at his father and the other dons. Don Alejandro waved back, but did not slow his pace. He was eager to begin the search, and he had nothing to say to Diego in any case. Diego pulled his horse up to watch them go, then turned and saw Santiago standing with Sergeant Garcia and Lozano near the well. He rode over and dismounted in front of them. He bowed to the Magistrado and said, "I came as soon as I received your message, Your Excellency." He looked once again at the place where his father had disappeared from sight. "May I presume that my father has joined the search for Eduardo?"

"Sí, Diego," said Santiago. "He and his men will be aiding us in the search."

Garcia saw the hurt look which passed across Diego's face. He felt sorry for the young man. Diego had wanted to help search for the child also, but the Magistrado would not let him. He would let other civilians help, but not Don Diego. Garcia felt for his friend, but he knew it was for the best. Don Diego, . . . well, he just didn't, . . . he just wasn't, . . . his thoughts were interrupted before he could try to decide what to think exactly.

Santiago said, "Do not feel badly, Diego. I have another assignment which is just as important as riding the hills in search of this elusive outlaw." He turned to Lozano and said, "Señor, you will excuse us?"

"Of course, Your Excellency," said Lozano. "I was just on my way to have some breakfast at the inn when I saw the gathering. My curiosity got the better of me. I pray you will find the child today." So saying, Lozano bowed and then walked over to the inn.

"Sergeant, this will not take long," Santiago said to the larger man. "Have your men mounted and ready. As soon as I talk to Diego here, I will join you."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Garcia with a salute. He turned and went to the cuartel, ordering the men to get mounted.

Santiago turned to Diego, pulling out the message from Capitán Hidalgo which the courier had brought. "Diego, there has been a development in Santa Barbara which requires the attention of the Magistrado." Seeing Diego's look of concern, he said, "However, I feel I must stay here to continue to lead in the search for the missing boy and the outlaw Zorro. I am the representative of the law and the people are expecting that of me. I cannot let them down." Diego nodded. He could understand the sentiment. It was exactly the first thought he'd had when Santiago had made his announcement. Santiago continued. "Capitán Hidalgo has managed to capture a man he believes is an accomplice of Zorro." He saw Diego's eyes light up.

"An accomplice?" he asked.

"Yes," said Santiago, referring to the paper, "it says here that a man known as Tomaso was captured yesterday, and Hidalgo believes that he knows Zorro and may have valuable information. Diego, I need you to go to Santa Barbara in my place and interrogate this Tomaso. We must find out what he knows about Zorro. Capitán Hidalgo thinks this man knows something about his whereabouts."

"Sí, Your Excellency," said Diego with enthusiasm. His blood had quickened when he heard the little man's name in the message from Hidalgo. He would indeed like to question the man. He had wanted to find out more from Tomaso the last time they had met, but had not had the opportunity. From Santiago's remarks, Diego surmised Hidalgo had not mentioned to the Magistrado that Diego had met Tomaso before. That was just as well. It possibly prevented some delicate questions from Santiago which Diego was not ready to answer.

"We must find out all we can about the outlaw, and if this prisoner knows anything useful I want you to discover what it is." continued Santiago. "I know this is well beyond anything I have asked you to do in your capacity as assistant deputy, but things being as they are, I have no choice. With the exception of yesterday's incident, you have always followed my instructions exactly." Diego could not help but feel badly about that, despite the fact he had done it with good intentions. Santiago saw this and said, "Know this however: I have confidence you can do the job. Your work has been exemplary and of the best quality. You have a keen mind and good powers of observation. You are a young man with ability."

Diego could not help but to be proud. These were the kinds of words he longed to hear. He was being acknowledged by someone whom he greatly admired. He would do everything he could not to disappoint the Magistrado, redeeming the incident of yesterday. Outwardly, he maintained a professional demeanor, but inwardly he was basking in the warm glow of the Magistrado's words.

Santiago continued. "Now Diego. Remember. It is vital, not only to the safety of the child, but of all California that we find out all we can. This outlaw must be stopped. Therefore, I am giving you the authority to conduct a full investigation of any facts you may discover."

Diego said, "I am honored to receive this assignment, Your Excellency. I will endeavor to show that your confidence is not misplaced. If Tomaso knows anything of importance, I will find out what it is." To himself, he thought, "You may be sure of that."

Santiago smiled at the intensity with which Diego spoke. _O' ho. Just like a poor little lamb to the slaughter,_ he thought to himself in amusement. To Diego he said, "Excellenté." He pulled the last piece of folded paper from inside his jacket. "Here is a letter to Capitán Hidalgo which instructs him to give you every cooperation in your interrogation of Tomaso and any further investigation." He paused with a smile. "I am somewhat familiar with Hidalgo's temperament. He is a good soldier, but somewhat . . . lacking in tact." Diego smiled as he understood the Magistrado's deliberate understatement. "With this," he tapped the letter, "you should have no problem with the good Capitán." He handed the folded letter to Diego who placed it in the inside pocket of his jacket. "Now, if you find out anything useful, Capitán Hidalgo will place a military courier at your service. Send word to me at once if you find out where this outlaw is hiding and we will soon have him behind bars awaiting the gallows."

"Sí, Your Excellency," said Diego.

"Good," said Santiago. "Now you must leave as soon as possible. I want you there by this evening to begin your questioning. However, you may have to stay in Santa Barbara for several days while you conduct your investigation. Go home and have that little mozo of yours pack your things. And, . . . take him with you this time."

"Bernardo?" asked Diego, looking puzzled.

Santiago smiled. "Sí. You are my assistant deputy. You must not only perform the work I have given you, you must also project the image. Having your servant there will remind everyone of your station." In fatherly overtones, Santiago said, "Diego, we do not openly flaunt our position in society, but we do use the subtle things when we can, eh? You are young yet, and I think you will find that having your servant with you will make a difference in how people perceive you."

Diego thought he could understand what the Magistrado was trying to say. However, this was going to pose a great problem for Diego with regards to Tornado, but what could he do? There was no good reason he could tell the Magistrado why Bernardo should not come. He would just have to think of something to do about Tornado. "Sí, Your Excellency," he said. "I will go to the hacienda and take Bernardo with me just as you say. If we obtain fresh horses along the way and push them, we should be in Santa Barbara well before dark. I will begin my questioning of Tomaso as soon as I arrive."

"Bueno," said Santiago. "I pray we find this outlaw and the child soon, Diego. But if we do not, what you are able to find out may be the very thing which will save the day." He smiled and placed his hand on Diego's shoulder briefly. Diego returned his smile. "Now be off with you, and Godspeed."

"Graciás, Your Excellency," said Diego. He turned and mounted his horse. Saluting Santiago, he pushed his palomino into a gallop and thundered out of the pueblo.

Santiago found his heart beating almost as fast as the hoof beats of Diego's mount. His own excitement was growing. All the players were in motion and he was certain his victims had no clue as to their fates. He savored the fact that the first phase of his plan would culminate tonight in Santa Barbara. He could feel the heady sensation of being in control, with all the others dancing on the ends of his strings. He had forgotten no detail, not even the little deaf mute servant of de la Vega, whose fate was tied to that of his master's. Then he clenched his jaws. No, he would not let himself be carried away. He would remain in control of his own emotions. There was too much at stake to become careless. He was no Varga. But now he did understand the lure of absolute power; understood its sometimes fatal attraction. One day he _would_ hold all the power, but only after his careful plans were carried out and there was no one left to oppose him. However, as an exercise, he permitted himself one careful smile as his finger stroked the serpent engraved upon the hilt of his sword.

His attention was drawn to the door of the inn where Lozano had reappeared. He waited a moment while Lozano untied his horse and led it over to the well allowing it to drink from the trough.

In a low voice, Lozano said, "All is as you wished, Magistrado. Uresti should be nearing his camp in the hills above Santa Barbara with the boy by now. All signs of his camp here have been wiped out."

Santiago nodded once and then said, "You will go and watch Don Alfredo's hacienda now. When he leaves, you will come and find me in the hills near Uresti's former camp. You will say that you are bringing me news about Don Alfredo disappearing from his hacienda. This will give me the excuse I need to leave the searchers and ride back here. Then we will catch the coach to Santa Barbara together while everyone else continues to search the dry and dusty hills in vain."

Lozano nodded to show he had heard his orders, then swung aboard his horse. He touched his hat in salute and started on his way to the hacienda of Don Alfredo.

Santiago watched him go, then turned and walked over to the patrol which was already mounted and waiting. His horse was being held by one of the sentries. He mounted and settled himself into the saddle. Looking around the plaza, he saw that all eyes were on him. In a loud voice, he said, "All right, Sergeant. Let us go and find this vile outlaw. Forward!" He set off at a stately canter, leading the Sergeant and the lancers. They were followed by the calls of the people who offered prayers and encouragement to bring little Eduardo home to his father and mother. Santiago raised his hand to acknowledge them and then kicked his horse into a gallop. Soon they were gone from sight.


	34. B2 Ch7: All Roads Lead to Santa Barbara

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter 7 – _All Roads Lead to Santa Barbara_**

When Diego arrived at the hacienda, he went immediately upstairs to his room. There he found Bernardo laying wood in the fireplace which he had just cleared. "Bernardo," he said, "you are going with me to Santa Barbara. Quickly, pack enough for me for a week and yourself also." At Bernardo's questioning look, he confirmed, "That's what I said. You are coming with me this time. The Magistrado has assigned me to return to Santa Barbara to work on an investigation for him and he told me I should take you with me." Bernardo asked why he was to go also. "It was the Magistrado's order," said Diego. "You know," Diego mused, "it is strange he would concern himself with my mozo going with me. He never has before." Then he shrugged. "He said it was to remind everyone of my station." He slapped Bernardo on the back. "He said having you with me would make a difference." Bernardo was puzzled by the remark, but smiled brightly as he saw the laughter in his young master's eyes. He set about gathering up Diego's clothing. He paused a moment though, to ask what Diego's assignment was.

"You remember that man, Tomaso, that I told you about?" asked Diego. Bernardo nodded. "Well, it seems Capitán Hidalgo has him in jail. The Magistrado wants me to go there and interrogate him, hoping he might give us some information which will lead us to the imposter and help us to get Don Alfredo's son back." Bernardo signed again. "He wanted to, but he felt that he should remain here and lead the searchers. He said he had confidence that I could do the job." Bernardo signed that _he_ knew that this was so. _He_ had no doubts. Diego smiled. "It is indeed gratifying to know you agree with the Magistrado." Bernardo shrugged one shoulder and cocked his head mischievously. Diego pushed him good naturedly.

"There is, of course, a problem," Diego said, turning serious again. Pausing, Bernardo saw Diego looking at the secret panel, then he nodded and pointed down toward the cavern. "Sí. Tornado. What shall we do with him? We will perhaps be gone for many days depending upon what, if anything, I am able to find out from Tomaso. We only have a very short time to do something with our four legged friend. We must be ready to leave as soon as possible." Bernardo thought hard, but he could come up with nothing which they had not already tried.

Finally, Diego brightened and said, "I have it! We shall do what Sergeant Garcia once did. We will paint Tornado." Bernardo's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Diego continued. "When he no longer looks like Zorro's horse, we will put him in with the brood mares in the high meadow. The vaqueros have just finished weaning the colts and have bred all the mares, so they will not be checking them closely for at least a couple of weeks. They will be too busy working with the colts. I will finish the packing here while you go and get some of the whitewash from the storage shed. Hurry." Bernardo flew out the door and down the stairs.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Tornado was certain that he did not like being painted a muddy grey color all over. He stamped his feet and tossed his head as he tried to avoid the paint. "Hold still, Tornado," said Diego as he tried to finish painting one hind leg. Bernardo had refused to paint any of Tornado's back half as being too dangerous, especially once he saw the whites of the stallion's eyes. "If you would not eat all of your food so fast, we would not have to go through with this, you know," Diego spoke reprovingly to his horse. "Besides, just think. With this disguise, you will be able to be out of this cave and run and play to your heart's content. And you will have company. Female company." Tornado turned and looked at him with interest. Diego didn't have the heart to tell him that any amorous advances towards the mares was going to go to waste. Let him find out for himself. It would keep him occupied. A few more brush strokes and Diego said, "There, even his own mother wouldn't know him." Bernardo stood with his hands on his hips and had to agree. He grinned broadly at the horse of a different color which stood before him. Tornado shook himself all over and snorted. "All right," Diego said. "Let's go." He took Tornado by the mane in order to lead him, and all three of them went out of the cave.

Bernardo scouted ahead to make sure no one was around as they came up out of the secret canyon which concealed the cave. He did see some vaqueros with a herd of cattle, but they were soon gone over the next set of hills and then they were alone. The high meadow was not too far away and soon they were on the edge of the expanse. A clear stream ran down the middle and tall grass was abundant. There were about thirty mares in this herd, more than enough to conceal the fact there was a stallion among them, if no one looked closely. Tornado became excited and pranced, becoming quite a handful for Diego. "All right, go on," he said affectionately. "Just don't forget who your master is and do not wander away from the herd," he called after the horse who trotted away with head held high, advancing toward the mares. Soon, Tornado was safely among them, getting acquainted. One mare threw up her heels at the stallion and Diego laughed. "I'll bet he was surprised," he said to Bernardo.

Diego would have liked to remained longer, but they had to leave right away. So they started back. He turned to look one more time and was pleased to see that Tornado blended with the herd quite well. The muddy grey color was just plain enough to conceal him. With one less worry on his mind, they returned to the cave and went back up to his room. Sending Bernardo off to pack his own things, Diego took his saddle bag and went down to see about some food. Knowing his palomino and Bernardo's horse were not fresh enough to make even the first leg of the long journey, he instructed one of the vaqueros to saddle two others.

It was not long before Bernardo came into the back courtyard with his bags, and the two of them mounted and rode toward Santa Barbara. Bernardo was pleased to be going with Diego. He had never liked it when his young master had ridden off without him. Perhaps if this plan with Tornado worked out, he could go with him more often. Diego set a fast pace and Bernardo urged his horse to keep up.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

"My beloved, I must be going now," said Don Alfredo as he pulled away from Florintina. "I have a long ride and I must not be late. I promise you, that when I return, I will bring Eduardo with me."

"Oh, how I pray you will, my husband," said Florintina, leaning once more against Don Alfredo's breast. "Please be careful. Do exactly what Zorro said to do so he will have no reason to harm our son. And you. Do not you fail to come home to me, my husband. I could not live if something should happen to you."

Don Alfredo kissed the top of Florintina's head as he pulled her close one last time. "You must live for the sake of our other children," he said tenderly. "Do you not agree? They will need their mother." Florintina nodded as she wept softly against his breast. He continued. "The terrible truth is we do not know what will happen when I arrive in Santa Barbara. If things should turn out for the worse, I want you to sell this rancho and move in with your sister in Monterey. You will be safe there."

Florintina looked up at her husband with tears flowing and said, "Can any place in California be safe while that outlaw Zorro is at large?"

Don Alfredo hesitated. He'd had those same thoughts. And this was not the first time. The first time was when the Eagle had spread his evil across California. Don Alejandro had convinced him to stay on then. He had pulled himself together and had held his ground, eventually taking part in the Eagle's defeat. But now, here was another usurper, using the kidnaping of a child to extract ransom money while, according to the Magistrado, building some sort of army in the hills. Zorro was legendary in his abilities. How could any of them stand up to him when he might make his move to conquer California for his own? Shoving his doubts aside, he finally said, "Monterey will be the safest place in California. The Governor is there and the military. They will be your protection." He tried to sound convincing. In the back of his mind, however, his thoughts were turning to leaving California when he returned with his son. This land was no place to raise a family in safety.

"I don't want to think about that now," said Florintina. "I will only think about the moment when you walk into our hacienda with Eduardo."

Don Alfredo hugged her to him once more and then turned and walked to his horse. The bag with the money was already secured to his saddle horn. He carried three pistols with him for protection. Two in holsters on his saddle, and one tucked into his banda within easy reach. If anyone dared to try and stop him, he would at least have a chance to fight his way clear. He mounted and pulled his horse to a stop as it sidestepped. He looked around at his home and then down at his wife. "My beloved," he said, then kicked his horse into a gallop.

From his vantage point on a hill above the hacienda, Lozano was able to see Don Alfredo leaving. He checked his watch. If everything went well, Don Alfredo should be arriving in Santa Barbara around seven o'clock this evening. It would be well dark by then. He turned his horse and began riding for the hills where Uresti had been camping the night before. He was tired. He had gotten no sleep in the last day or so. But he must not fail the Magistrado. It took him almost an hour to find the lancer patrol and Santiago as they churned through the hills looking for a man who was not there. One of the lancers was the first to spot him and cried out to the others. The soldiers wheeled and pulled their rifles as he came up.

"Do not fire!" ordered Santiago as soon as he saw that it was Lozano.

Garcia loudly repeated his order. "Do not fire!" The soldiers relaxed. Some put away their rifles while others propped them casually across their saddles, waiting to see what this was all about.

Lozano rode up to Santiago and Garcia. "Hola, Magistrado!" he hailed them. "I have had a hard time finding you."

"Señor Lozano, it is good to see you again," said Santiago. "But just what brings you here to this forsaken place?" He indicated the barren hills.

"Your Excellency, I bring you word of a new problem. Don Alfredo is missing."

"Don Alfredo!" said Sergeant Garcia in surprise. "Missing?"

"Sí, Sergeant. Missing." Turning to Santiago, he said, "I thought you should know as soon as possible. I came at once."

"Graciás," said Santiago, inwardly smiling because he knew Lozano was telling him that Don Alfredo was on his way to Santa Barbara with the money. "This is terrible news. Sergeant?"

"Sí, Magistrado?"

"Sergeant, I am placing you in charge of this search. I am going to return to the pueblo with Señor Lozano to see what this latest development means. You will continue to search this area until just before noon and then rendevous with Don Alejandro at the pre-arranged meeting place. You will then shift your search further north and east. You will let the dons ride with you. With a larger force, you can cover more ground. Is that understood?"

"Sí, Magistrado," said Garcia. Then he looked puzzled. "But what if we still do not find Zorro, Your Excellency?"

"If you have found no sign of Zorro by sundown, you have my permission to return to Los Angeles, Sergeant," said Santiago. "The dons may continue or not as they chose. When you return, I will have further orders for you."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Garcia with a salute.

"Bueno. You may continue the search now," said Santiago, indicating the hills ahead of them. "Oh, and have your men see to their rifles. They do not need them at the moment."

"Lancers, put away your rifles," ordered Garcia. "You there, Ricardo, straighten up, you are slouching. That's better." Garcia drew his sword and pointed it in the direction of the hills indicated by Santiago. "Lancers, forward!" he ordered. Their accouterments clanking rhythmically, they cantered away in an orderly column.

Santiago turned his horse and started for Los Angeles. Lozano hurried to catch up with him. "When did he leave?" Santiago asked when they were well away from the soldiers.

"At half past eight o'clock, heading north on the road to Santa Barbara," said Lozano.

"Excellent. We will board the coach at noon and be in Santa Barbara around eight o'clock tonight," said Santiago with a smile. "Once there, we will go immediately to your shop where we can monitor the situation. Uresti should be hidden in the house on the edge of town with his little prisoner just after dark. We must coordinate this thing very closely, Lozano. Zorro must not arrive too soon, Hidalgo must not arrive too late, and Don Alfredo must be there to see the whole thing in order to make a convincing witness at the trial."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Lozano, who swallowed in a dry throat. He knew everything depended upon precision timing and he was still worried about Tomaso's performance. But he was not going to be the one to bring up that subject again. They rode in silence the rest of the way into the pueblo.


	35. B2 Ch8: The Asst Deputy Takes Charge

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter 8 – _The Assistant Deputy Takes Charge_**

Diego and Bernardo rode into Santa Barbara just after five o'clock in the afternoon. They had changed horses twice along the way and had made excellent time. They pulled up in front of the Inn of the Roses and went in. The innkeeper did not seem to be as glad to see Diego as he had the last time he had been there. As a matter of fact, most of the people drinking wine in the tavern seemed to be looking at the two of them suspiciously. This concerned Diego, but he was tired and he did not want to think about it right now. All he wanted to focus upon was his duty to the Magistrado and the work he was here to do. He had questions of his own which he wanted to have answered by the little man in the Santa Barbara jail.

"I am sorry, but I have no larger room than the one you stayed in last time, Señor de la Vega," the innkeeper said. "And it only has one bed, as you know. If you wish your servant to stay with you, he will have to sleep on the floor." Diego was somewhat amused to see the subtle look of dismay pass across Bernardo's face as the mozo tried not to react to the news. "I can offer him a place in the stable to sleep if you would prefer," offered the innkeeper.

Keeping his smile to himself, Diego said, "The room will be satisfactory, Señor. Just have a few extra blankets brought in so that he may make a pallet for himself."

"Sí, Señor de la Vega," said the innkeeper. "Please sign the register for me?" he said, pushing the big book toward Diego. As Diego wrote his name, the innkeeper turned to Bernardo. "If you will bring your master's things we will get him settled in his room." Bernardo just looked blankly at the innkeeper a moment and then signaled that he could not hear.

"Oh, I should have told you," said Diego. "My servant neither hears nor speaks." The innkeeper stared at Bernardo. Apparently he had never met anyone with those characteristics before and he was startled. Diego turned and "caught" Bernardo's attention and made motions for him to go out and get the saddlebags. Bernardo nodded, smiling brightly as he went on his way to do his master's bidding. Diego looked back at the innkeeper and smiled at the way the man's eyes followed Bernardo out of the door. Addressing the innkeeper, he said, "He has his little idiosyncrasies, but he serves me well."

"As you say, Señor," said the innkeeper, not entirely convinced.

Bernardo came back in with the saddlebags and the three of them went upstairs. After the innkeeper left them with some fresh towels and the blankets, Bernardo put the saddlebags on the bed and looked around. He wrinkled his nose at the shabby little room.

"It is not the palace in Madrid," agreed Diego, "but it will do for now." Bernardo nodded and then made some signs about the cold looks from the people in the tavern. "Yes, I noticed that also," said Diego, "the innkeeper is decidedly cooler to me than he was the last time I was here, but unless it has something to do with Capitán Hidalgo's insinuations, I do not know what it means." Bernardo nodded. He remembered what Diego had told him about his last encounter with the Capitán. Diego spoke again, pointing to the bags, "Leave those things there and let us go to the garrison and report in to Capitán Hidalgo. I am anxious to talk to Tomaso." Bernardo nodded and followed Diego down the stairs. They went outside and Diego found the same little boy there as before, waiting to see about the horses. Diego was reminded of the young son of Don Alfredo who had been kidnaped by the imposter. He tossed a couple of coins to the boy and told him to take the horses to the livery. Then he and Bernardo proceeded across the street to the garrison.

"I am Diego de la Vega, Assistant Deputy Magistrado," he said to the sentry. "Please give Capitán Hidalgo my complements. I wish to speak with him." The sentry left at once and returned shortly.

"You may enter, Señor de la Vega," he said, and escorted them to the capitán's office.

Hidalgo lounged back in his chair as he faced Diego across his desk. "Señor de la Vega," he said. "To what do I owe the great pleasure of your company? Have you returned to tour our lovely hills once again?"

Diego stilled his irritation with this man. It would not do to become angry. He had a job to do and he would not let Hidalgo's sarcasm interfere. He pulled out the document from Santiago and handed it to Hidalgo. "I believe you will find what you need to know about my visit in there," he said.

Hidalgo broke the seal on the paper and his brow furrowed as he read. "I am to give you every cooperation for your interrogation of the prisoner," he mumbled. "You are to have everything you need to carry out any investigation you may wish to make. I am to provide a military courier to send reports to the Magistrado . . . ." He trailed off as he finished the note. Waving the paper angrily, Hidalgo said, "I do not know how you arranged this, Señor, but it seems I have no choice in the matter. Very well. Interrogate the prisoner. Investigate what you will. It will cost me nothing and will merely be a waste of your time."

"Graciás, Capitán," said Diego, deciding to remain polite because he knew it would prick Hidalgo. "The Magistrado will be most pleased with your cooperation. Now, may I ask why you arrested Tomaso last night? What are the charges against him?"

"He was caught stealing some food from one of our merchants like the little thief he is," said Hidalgo with some satisfaction. "He had meat, cheese, bread and several bottles of wine, enough to feed several men," he paused, and narrowed his eyes, "or to feed one outlaw for many days. I am, of course, speaking of your masked friend."

Diego refused to be baited. Calmly, he replied, "That man is not my friend, Capitán. I have made that clear. Now, where is the prisoner? I should like to question him right away."

Hidalgo glared at him for a moment. Diego did not back down, but neither did he do anything to further upset the man. Finally, Hidalgo said, "He is out there in my jail, Señor." Turning toward the door, he shouted, "Fuentes!" A soldier appeared at the door. Hidalgo threw a ring of keys at the soldier, who nearly dropped them. "Fuentes, you will take this man and, . . and,. . . just who is he?" he said, pointing at Bernardo. Bernardo acted as though Hidalgo was pointing to someone behind him and turned to look.

"Oh, he is my deaf and dumb servant, Bernardo," said Diego calmly, as Bernardo looked back at Hidalgo in a confused state. "I brought him with me to Santa Barbara this time. I do not like to leave him by himself when we are in a strange town, so I am keeping him close at hand."

"Deaf is he?" said Hidalgo. "Can you prove that?"

"Must I prove it?" challenged Diego, tired of Hidalgo at last. "I have said it and that should be sufficient. Really, Capitán. Señor Santiago, the Magistrado, knows all about Bernardo and can vouch for him if you think that is necessary." Hidalgo did not seem happy with that answer, but when was the Capitán ever happy, Diego asked himself.

Hidalgo waived his hand dismissively and said, "Never mind, Señor Assistant Deputy. Go. Conduct your interrogation. But do not let your servant wander off. He might get hurt. This is a military post, not the hacienda of a rich man's son."

Bernardo could see the tension settling between Diego's shoulders as the Capitán made his remarks. Diego had told him of Hidalgo's poor attitude concerning the deputy magistrado. He could also see the subtle clenching of the jaws which marked Diego's iron control over his emotions. Diego was his father's son in many ways. However, his sojourn as Zorro and consequently his masquerade as the bookish Diego had given him the ability to let things roll off when there was more to be gained by holding his temper.

Diego simply bowed to Hidalgo and said, "Capitán," as he turned to leave the office. He motioned to Bernardo, who trailed closely behind him. They followed Fuentes over to the jail cells. Diego could see a small man standing at the bars of one of the cells, watching him as he approached. It was Tomaso. "Open the cell," he said to Fuentes. While the soldier unlocked the door, Diego motioned Bernardo to stay outside, but to stay near. Diego found it interesting that, even though Hidalgo had stayed behind in his office, he now walked over to take up a position near the cell, standing feet apart, arms crossed. His curiosity must have gotten the better of him. Diego entered the cell and the guard closed the door behind him, locking it again. Fuentes then took up a position a few feet away from the cell, near Hidalgo.

The little man looked nervously at the soldiers before returning to look at Diego. "Señor de la Vega, you have come to help me?" Tomaso asked hopefully.

"I have come to ask you some questions," said Diego. "Please, sit down." Both men sat down on the hard cot which served as the jail's seating and bedding. "Now. Tell me what you were doing when you were arrested." Diego wanted to compare Tomaso's answer to Hidalgo's account of the situation.

"Truly nothing, Señor Deputy! I am innocent," Tomaso proclaimed, then he ducked his head as he glanced nervously at Hidalgo.

Diego just looked steadily at him.

Tomaso could not look Diego in the eyes and it was clear that he would not speak any more. He kept fiddling nervously with the corner of his jacket, stealing looks at Hidalgo. Diego knew he must do something. He rose and went to the bars. "Capitán, I will not be able to get anywhere with this man while you are standing there. Please, return to your office and allow me to question the prisoner." At Hidalgo's scowl, he said firmly, "That is an order, Capitán. And take Fuentes with you." Hidalgo clenched his fists and anger clouded his face. He opened his mouth, then closed it as he stalked back to his office, motioning angrily for Fuentes to follow him. Diego was thankful the Magistrado's orders had been so specific as to his authority to conduct the questioning. Those orders were apparently the only thing keeping Hidalgo in check.

He turned back to Tomaso. "All right. The Capitán is gone. Now tell me, what were you doing when you were arrested?"

Tomaso looked around as though to reassure himself that Hidalgo was nowhere about. "I might have been carrying a bag full of provisions," he allowed.

"And might you have paid for these provisions?" asked Diego.

"It could be I had forgotten to bring any money, Señor Deputy," Tomaso said with a shy smile.

"Just who were these provisions for?" asked Diego.

"For me?" Tomaso put forth hopefully. At Diego's negative shaking of the head, Tomaso sighed and confirmed, "They were for someone else."

"Who?"

"Señor Deputy," said Tomaso. "I do not wish to mention any names here." He looked around the garrison and focused on Bernardo. "There are too many ears."

Diego looked at the little man for a moment, then leaned closer and said, "Do not worry about my servant, he cannot hear. Were you taking the food to the man you mentioned to me before? Behind the church?"

Tomaso glanced at Bernardo once more before he agreed, "Sí, Señor Deputy. It is the same man."

Bernardo had a strange feeling about the little man in the cell with Diego. Something nagged at the back of his mind, but whatever it was would not come to light. He looked closely at Tomaso without seeming to do so, willing the thought to come to him. However, nothing happened. He continued to listen to the conversation.

"Can you tell me where he is?" asked Diego with hope. If he could find the imposter, he might be able to rescue the boy. And it would give him the greatest satisfaction if he were to be the one to bring the imposter to justice.

Tomaso paused a moment, before he answered. "I am afraid, Señor."

"Would your fears be eased if I told you I will do what I can to help you?" asked Diego. "It may be that I can find a way to set you free." Diego did not know if his authority extended to this degree, but he was more than willing to push it if Tomaso's information could lead him to the imposter.

Tomaso nodded thoughtfully. Then he stiffened and Diego said, "What is wrong? What is the matter?" He followed Tomaso's gaze and saw that Hidalgo was standing on the steps of his office with his hands on his hips, glaring at them. He made no move to join them, however. Seeing he had been noticed, the Capitán went back into the office. Diego knew it was eating at Hidalgo's insides that he was being excluded. He turned back to Tomaso who had fear written on his face.

"That man does not like me," said Tomaso. "I think he will find a way to have me hanged if I do not get out of here."

"Just what did you do to him to make him dislike you so?" asked Diego.

Tomaso said, "I slipped through his fingers the last time he caught me. I think I made him look like a fool in front of his men and some of the townspeople. I know he will never forgive me for that. He is too proud. If he had not been waiting for the Magistrado to come, he might have killed me already. But you have come instead." He paused. "He does not like you either," he told Diego.

"What makes you say that?" Diego was curious to hear what Tomaso knew.

Tomaso shrugged. "Some nonsense about you being found in the hills with a certain man who wears a mask," he smiled slyly. "Capitán Hidalgo is angry because he has not been able to capture that man and blames everyone but himself. There are many who listen to what he has to say about you, Señor. I would watch my back if I were you. The people are frightened and frightened people can be just as dangerous as the Capitán."

From his position outside the cell, Bernardo was alarmed at Tomaso's words. How could anyone believe that his master was involved with the imposter? He was a respected citizen of Los Angeles and an officer in the service of the Magistrado. But as Bernardo once again considered the Magistrado, a sense of uneasiness came over him. He had always felt something was not quite right with Señor Santiago. There had never been anything concrete which he could grasp, but something always left him unsettled whenever he thought about Diego's relationship with the man. All he knew was that the Magistrado had been directing much of his master's life for the past several months and had put Diego in various situations which allowed him to cast Diego in a questionable light when there was no reason to do so. It was almost as if there was another man beneath the Magistrado's skin, hidden in plain sight. Bernardo considered this image for a moment. He shivered mentally, reacting just as he did whenever he saw a snake. How could he ever convince Diego of the menace he felt that the Magistrado represented? Bernardo had never felt more helpless.

And there was the remaining question. Were there any connections between Hidalgo's insinuations and those incidents with the Magistrado about which Bernardo had tried to warn Diego? At present, there was no way to know. But if Hidalgo was spreading lies about his young master, that was a clear signal of danger. There was no question about that. There was not much he could do about it other than to be doubly alert for any threat to his young friend. Bernardo doubted whether he would sleep very much while they were in Santa Barbara. He would do his best to protect his young master. His attention returned to the men in the cell. He still had a strange feeling about Tomaso that he couldn't put his finger on.

"Thank you for the warning," Diego was saying to Tomaso. "I will be careful. I have been given authority by the Magistrado, and I will leave orders that no harm is to come to you." He could well understand the little man's fears, Hidalgo's temper being what it was.

"Graciás, Señor, but if you do not get me out of here, I do not think your orders will be obeyed." Tomaso leaned forward as he spoke. "Let us be frank, Señor _Assistant_ Deputy. Capitán Hidalgo has no more respect for you than he does for . . . me." He smiled knowingly. "He will do what he wishes and tell the Magistrado that it was just a mix up in orders. Please. You must get me out of here." He clutched at Diego's arm. Diego removed the man's hands from him. "Please, Señor Deputy," the little man continued. "If you get me out of here, I promise I will help you to find the man you seek. I promise!"

"Can I trust the word of a thief?" Diego asked Tomaso.

"I told you the truth as to where his camp was, did I not?" said Tomaso. "That should prove I can be trusted."

Diego nodded thoughtfully. The imposter's camp had been just where Tomaso had said it would be. It was just his bad luck the outlaw had spotted him first and then had been chased away by Hidalgo and his men. He looked at Tomaso again. "But how do I know I can trust you now? Just why were you taking provisions to him last night?" he asked suspiciously. "I thought you were frightened of him?"

"A man has to make a living, Señor," said Tomaso shrugging. "He promised to pay me twenty pesos to bring him some food and wine. Especially the wine. Besides, he would kill me if I did not do as he said."

Diego understood. It was exactly how he expected a man such as Tomaso to behave. Those at the edge of the law did what they had to in order to survive. This brought up another question. "If I get you out of here, how do I know you will not run away from me and never be seen again?"

"You do not 'know', Señor Deputy," said Tomaso. "But if you are to have any chance of finding the man you want, you will have to trust me. I want out of here. You want him. A fair exchange, no?"

Diego said, "All right. Give me some reason to believe you actually know where he is."

Tomaso said, "Señor Deputy, truly I saw him only last night and he had a boy with him. One he stole for ransom from some rich hacendado to the south." Tomaso held his hand out above the ground and said, "The boy was about this tall and had blue eyes and very light colored hair. He wore a dark blue jacket over a red shirt. Is that proof enough Señor, that I know what I know? You know about this boy, is this not so?"

Diego knew Tomaso had seen Eduardo. His description was accurate right down to the clothing which Diego knew from his conversation with Doña Florintina. "All right, I am convinced you have seen them," said Diego. He was also relieved to know the boy was still alive. It also meant that the imposter must be very near Santa Barbara for Tomaso to have seen him just last night. The Magistrado, his father, and all of the men who were searching for Eduardo near Los Angeles were looking for him in vain. He would need to get word to the Magistrado as soon as possible. He paused as another thought occurred to him. He had a personal score to settle with the imposter. He would like nothing better than to capture the man himself and free the boy. Not for the glory such an action might bring, but for the satisfaction he would get from knowing that the man who was ruining Zorro's good name was stopped by the man who had first given life to the masked man. It was only justice.

He looked at Tomaso again. Did he dare let Tomaso out of jail in the hope that he would take him to the imposter? Did he dare let the man stay in jail where he would be in danger of his life? Tomaso was his only source of information about the imposter and he could not afford to give Hidalgo a chance to kill him. He knew that to give Tomaso his chance would mean that he would have to confront Hidalgo and order Tomaso's release. It remained to be seen whether Hidalgo would comply. If he did, Diego's whole career with the Magistrado would be hanging in the balance as he waited to see if Tomaso would do as he said. If Tomaso produced the imposter, everything would be fine, but if he failed to do so, Diego was finished. Hidalgo would make sure of it.

As Zorro, Diego was used to taking risks. But most of those risks had been under his control. If he let Tomaso go, he would be essentially helpless, able only to wait and hope that Tomaso would keep his word. It would be one of the most perilous times in his life. For if he was compromised by Tomaso's duplicity, not only would his career as an officer with the Magistrado be ruined, but any chance of redeeming himself with his father would be ruined as well. He would be seen by his father as a complete and absolute failure. In his heart, he knew that would be a fate worse than death.

But then his thoughts turned to Eduardo. The boy must be frightened half to death by all that had happened to him. His life, too, rested in the balance. Diego closed his eyes. He was ashamed that he had only been thinking of himself while he considered what to do about Tomaso. He knew little Eduardo, and was quite fond of him, as he was fond of all of Don Alfredo's children. He wanted to see that Eduardo had every chance to attend the university in Spain when he grew up. He had here an opportunity to recover the child from the imposter and return him to his father's dearest friend. If he died in the attempt, or if he subsequently suffered great personal shame before others, what was that to the life of the child? Diego raised his head as his decision was made. He had to take the chance. He could not live with himself otherwise. There could be no other choice. He looked at Bernardo who met his eyes. Bernardo knew his decision.

"All right, Señor," said Diego. "I will see that you are released to my custody." Diego could see the relief in Tomaso's face. "I will go and speak with Capitán Hidalgo and make the arrangements. But remember, if you do not do as you say, you will be returned right here to this cell to await the Capitán's pleasure." Tomaso's smile faded.


	36. B2 Ch9: Face-Off

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter 9 – _Face-Off_**

"You want to do what?" Hidalgo roared as Diego made his decision known. Bernardo was having a hard time pretending not to hear the Capitán. He was becoming afraid that Hidalgo would come across the desk at Diego.

"I want you to release the prisoner, Tomaso, into my custody," calmly repeated Diego, who was feeling anything but calm. "That seems simple enough."

"No! I will not release the prisoner!" said Hidalgo loudly. "He stays right where he is."

Diego took a deep breath. Things had been much simpler when he was Zorro. All he would have had to do was wait until nightfall and slip into the garrison and release Tomaso. But now he would have to convince Hidalgo to do it with his authority as Santiago's representative. "Capitán, need I remind you of the Magistrado's orders? He said I was to have complete authority over the investigation . . . ."

"No, Señor _Assistant_ Deputy Magistrado," said Hidalgo, his tone almost sneering. "You do not need to remind me of His Excellency's orders. I have them right here." He slammed his open hand down upon the paper on his desk. "How the Magistrado could have seen fit to send you here to conduct things in his place is beyond my comprehension. I knew I should have informed him of your last visit here, then he would know what I know about you."

"Oh?" said Diego, his voice dead calm. "And just what do you know, Capitán?" Bernardo edged a little closer to Diego. He knew that tone in Diego's voice. He might have to intervene if things escalated beyond this point. Sometimes, he knew, Diego's sensibilities could be pushed over the limit. What he was going to do, he had not a clue, but he would do whatever it took to protect his young master from Hidalgo. He took off his hat and began twirling it in his hands as he stepped just a little closer to Diego.

Hidalgo leaned over his desk and said, "I know you secretly met with the prisoner the last time you were here. I know you met with Zorro the last time you were here. I know that you rode into his camp." Hidalgo came around his desk to stand face to face with Diego. "What does that say about you, Señor _Assistant_ Deputy Magistrado? Just who is your master? Is it the Magistrado . . . or is it . . . El Zorro?" Hidalgo glared at Diego.

Bernardo could see the tension building in Diego and saw him subtly shift onto the balls of his feet. This was it. Bernardo twirled his hat wildly and let go. It sailed in between the two men, hitting Hidalgo in the chest and falling to the floor. Both men were distracted.

"What . . .?" exclaimed Hidalgo as he looked around. Bernardo feigned innocence as he searched for his hat. Diego reached down to pick up the hat just as Bernardo leaned down to pick it up at the same time, and their eyes met. He saw understanding in Diego's eyes and smiled just for him. Diego picked up the hat and thrust it into Bernardo's hands. Acting like he was annoyed, he gave him a silent signal to move back. Bernardo contritely did as he was told, putting on the air of one scolded.

"You must excuse him, Capitán," said Diego in a more normal tone. "He is a rather simple creature, and prone to make mistakes. I keep him as my personal servant out of sympathy, for no one else would want him." Bernardo wanted to give Diego a look, but dared not.

Hidalgo eyed Bernardo balefully, making Bernardo distinctly uncomfortable. To hide this, he put a silly smile on his face. "I am sure that is the case," said Hidalgo with conviction. Bernardo just smiled all the more.

"Never mind my servant, Capitán," said Diego, coming back to their conversation. Thanks to Bernardo, he had his emotions under control once again. Hidalgo had a way of getting under his skin with his accusations and Diego was chagrined that he had allowed it. He was past that now. "I will tell you once again I have had no personal contact with this Zorro and I only saw Tomaso briefly that one night when he stopped me and asked me for money," he said. "I am a servant in His Majesty's government and the Magistrado has given me the authority to conduct this investigation in any manner I see fit." Hidalgo growled deep in his throat, but Diego held up his hand to forestall any outburst. "You _do_ have the Magistrado's orders on your desk. I know that you are an honorable and loyal soldier of the King and would not willingly disobey your written orders." He looked at Hidalgo expectantly. Hidalgo glared at him a moment more and then his eyes returned to the paper on his desk. Working the muscles in his jaws, he nodded curtly, once. Diego was relieved. Now he was getting somewhere.

"Capitán," he continued. "I have determined that the prisoner is much too frightened to talk while he is in the garrison, so to win his confidence, I will take him with me. We will have a good meal at the inn and then I will question him there. When I find out anything of substance, I will let you know."

"A good beating at the whipping post is what the man needs," said Hidalgo. "I should have done that myself when we first brought him in. He is a thief and an accomplice of Zorro." He pointed at the document on his desk. "That paper absolves me of any responsibility for the prisoner and he is now in your charge, Señor. I have not changed my mind about you, but I will not stand in your way at present. But rest assured I will be watching, and if you make any false moves, I will be there." He folded his arms across his chest.

"Graciás, Capitán," said Diego, who was somewhat relieved. "You will please order his release to me now." There was no harm in being polite to the man.

Hidalgo turned and went to the door and called, "Fuentes!"

"Sí, Capitán!"

"You will release the prisoner from the jail at once. Bring him to Señor de la Vega. He will take charge of the prisoner."

"Sí, Capitán," said Fuentes as he saluted. Then he turned and walked over to the jail where he opened the cell door. Diego and Bernardo followed behind, leaving Hidalgo standing in the doorway of his office. Tomaso did not come out at first, but then, gathered his courage as Diego motioned to him. He came to stand beside Diego, using him as a shield between him and Hidalgo.

"Come, Señor," said Diego, indicating the open gate of the garrison. "You are in my custody now. You will go with me to the inn."

"Sí, Señor Deputy," said Tomaso, grinning. He was very happy to leave the garrison.

As they walked out, Diego bowed to Hidalgo and said, "Buenas tardes, Capitán. Rest assured, I will take good care of the prisoner." Hidalgo did not respond, but simply glared at Diego, following the three of them with his eyes as they walked out across El Camino Real and over to the Inn of the Roses.

Hidalgo went into his office and collapsed into his chair. He found that he was laughing. The whole thing was so funny. _Assistant_ Deputy De la Vega was taking everything so very seriously. Hidalgo had enjoyed rattling the younger man's chain, making him work to get what he wanted. For a moment there, he had thought the young fool was actually going to take him on, but then that silly servant of his had intervened. He shook his head and laughed again. He would enjoy telling the Magistrado the whole tale when he arrived later tonight. He mused on that for a moment. Then he thought about the Magistrado's plans. Apparently, Tomaso had done what he'd had to do in order to get de la Vega convinced to ask for his release. Hidalgo could only hope the little man had not said anything which would make de la Vega suspicious. But so far, so good. Lozano's talk with Tomaso must have done some good after all. Now all Tomaso had to do was convince de la Vega to be in a certain part of the town at a certain time tonight in order that he might find Zorro. Then Hidalgo would have one more of Santiago's orders to carry out. He laughed again as he imagined the surprised look on de la Vega's face the next time they met on the streets of Santa Barbara.


	37. B2 Ch10: Lost Sons

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **10 – _Lost Sons_**

The searchers, both soldiers and dons alike, were dusty and weary when they returned to Los Angeles in the moments before full darkness came. They had searched the hills all the way to the mountains where the outlaw's tracks had mysteriously disappeared. No sign of Zorro or his victim had been seen. If Sergeant Garcia had not seen the child's hat for himself, he would not have believed the masked man had gone in that direction. When he had rendezvoused with the dons at midday, he'd had to inform them as to why the Magistrado was not with the lancer patrol. All were very concerned about Don Alfredo's disappearance, but were consoled by the fact the Magistrado had gone to see about the problem himself. Without any further word to the contrary, they decided to keep up with their own search, hoping to turn up some evidence of Zorro's whereabouts. They had found nothing. The lancers rode on into the cuartel as Don Alejandro and the dons paused at the cuartel gates. Sergeant Garcia remained mounted with them.

"Sentry," he said. "Where is the Magistrado?"

"He left on the noon coach," said the sentry.

"Left!" exclaimed Don Alejandro, meeting Sergeant Garcia's eyes.

Turning back to the sentry, Garcia said, "Where did he go?"

"To Santa Barbara, Sergeant." He paused. Then, "The Magistrado did leave some orders on your desk before he left. He said to make sure you saw them when you came back."

"I will read them right now," said Garcia, as he dismounted.

Don Alejandro and the other dons dismounted also. "I am coming with you, Sergeant," he said, and Garcia could tell that saying no to the older man was not the thing to do at the moment. To the dons, the elder de la Vega said, "The rest of you can go to the tavern and refresh yourselves. As soon as I know something I will come and tell you." The other dons nodded and led their horses across the plaza to the inn. "Sergeant?" said Don Alejandro, waiting for him to lead the way into the cuartel.

Glad for that courtesy at least, Sergeant Garcia led the way into his office. He found the note from the Magistrado on his desk and opened it, turning slightly so Don Alejandro could not see the words written there. They were his orders, after all.

"Well?" said Don Alejandro impatiently.

Garcia was not quite through reading and remained silent a moment more as he finished. Don Alejandro gripped the hilt of his sword and tried to remain calm at the delay. At last, Garcia looked up and said, "The Magistrado says, for one thing, that he had to go to Santa Barbara to see about Don Diego. He . . ."

"Diego?" interrupted Don Alejandro. "What is he doing in Santa Barbara?"

Looking at his paper again, Garcia said, "The Magistrado, he says Don Diego was supposed to question a man who says he knows something about finding Zorro. He also found out that Don Alfredo went to Santa Barbara to pay the ransom for his little boy. He has gone there to see what he can do."

"Don Alfredo should know better than to pay the ransom," said Don Alejandro, more to himself than to Sergeant Garcia. "It will only encourage others to think they can do the same."

Garcia nodded, but he said, "Poor Don Alfredo. He only wants to get his son back." The two men stood in silence for a moment.

"What else does your message say?" asked Don Alejandro, pointing to the paper in Garcia's hands.

"Oh. The Magistrado says Zorro must be somewhere around Santa Barbara and that we do not have to search here anymore." Don Alejandro nodded in agreement as Garcia continued. "I am to resume my regular patrols and wait for further orders to be sent by courier."

"That is all?" asked Don Alejandro, feeling as though there should be more that could be done.

Garcia reread his paper and nodded his head. "Sí, Don Alejandro. I am to resume my patrols and wait for further orders. That is all."

"Yes, well, thank you, Sergeant," said Don Alejandro. He was decidedly not happy with the turn of events, but what could he do? "I will go and tell the others to go home. I suppose we must just wait and see what the Magistrado is able to do."

"Sí, Don Alejandro," said Garcia. "The Magistrado is a good man. I know if I were Don Alfredo, I would want the Magistrado to help me."

"You are right, Sergeant," said Don Alejandro in agreement. "We have not had a finer Magistrado in Los Angeles than Señor Santiago. I just wish I could have gone with him. Don Alfredo is my good friend." He took a deep breath. "Well, good night, Sergeant. Keep me informed if anything else should develop."

"Buenas noches, Don Alejandro," said Garcia as Don Alejandro left.

Corporal Reyes came in the office just moments later and walked up to the sergeant who was reading his message once again. Keeping his eyes on the paper, Garcia said, "Well? Report."

Reyes looked blankly at Garcia, wondering just what he was to report. After all, he and the Sergeant had been together all day. "Report what?" he said.

"Report what you have been doing," said Garcia impatiently.

"I haven't been doing anything," said Reyes.

Now glaring at the Corporal for his obtuseness, Garcia said, "Of course, you have, stupid. You saw to it the horses were put away, didn't you?" Reyes nodded thoughtfully. "You sent the soldiers to get something to eat, didn't you?" Reyes nodded again. "You made sure the night sentries were posted, didn't you?" More nods. "Then you came in here to report, didn't you?"

"Oh no, Sergeant. That is not why I came in here," Reyes said.

Putting his hands on his hips, Garcia glared at Reyes again. "Well then, just why did you come in here if you did not come to report?"

"I wanted to know if you wanted to come to the tavern with me."

"And why would I want to go to the tavern with you?" asked Garcia sarcastically.

"I don't know, Sergeant," said Reyes shrugging his shoulders. "I was going buy a bottle of wine and . . . ."

A sudden grin found its way to Garcia's face at this bit of news. "A bottle of . . . . ? Corporal, of course I will go to the tavern with you. Am I not your friend?" Reyes looked undecided for a moment. Garcia saw this and decided not to let the Corporal think about it very long. He tossed the Magistrado's note on his desk and settled his hat more firmly on his head. "Come then. I won't keep you waiting any longer. Let us go." Putting his arm around Reyes, he ushered him out of the office, shutting the door behind them.

Don Alejandro had gone to the tavern right after he had left Garcia's office. The men gathered around as he told them what had happened and why the Magistrado was not in the pueblo. Everyone was in agreement that the Magistrado was the right man to handle the situation in Santa Barbara. Most of them had privately decided they would never find the missing boy after their long and fruitless search of the hills. Only their respect for Don Alejandro had kept them going. There was nothing more they could do in Los Angeles, so they all decided to go home and wait to see what happened. They finished the wine they had ordered and soon the tavern was empty as they went their separate ways.

Don Alejandro, too, could see no reason to stay in the pueblo and was soon on his way home. He was very concerned about his friend, Don Alfredo, and wondered again how the man could give in to the kidnapper and hand over the ransom money. If it had been his son, he would not, . . . . He paused in his thoughts. Could he really say that? He thought about Diego at nine years old. Such innocence and promise. The love of his life after his beloved wife. If it had been Diego who was kidnaped at such a tender age, how could he not do whatever it took to get him back? He shook his head as he rode. No, he could not fault Don Alfredo for his choice. He just wished the don had come to him first before riding off to Santa Barbara alone. He should not have had to make that ride alone.

Then Don Alejandro's thoughts turned to Diego. The Magistrado's note said that he had sent Diego to Santa Barbara to interrogate a man who might know of Zorro's whereabouts. Again, Don Alejandro shook his head. What would Diego know about interrogating a military prisoner? Had he progressed that much under the Magistrado's tutelage? Don Alejandro had seen no evidence of it. Mentally, he shrugged his shoulders. Just something else which was unknown to him about his son. Not for the first time, he wondered just how he could live in the same house as his son and still not know or understand him. Knowing this line of thinking would just lead him to become frustrated and angry, Don Alejandro decided to put it behind him for now. He would just concentrate on getting home and getting cleaned up before having an evening meal. A meal he would have to eat alone.

However, try as he might, he just could not ignore the pain in his heart. He thought of how Don Alfredo had hopes of recovering his son and he was glad for his friend. But Don Alejandro felt as though his own son was somehow lost to him, and did not know if he would ever get him back. A son whom he did not know.

As he rode along, Don Alejandro realized there was no use in trying to escape his melancholy thoughts. They always seemed to return to him no matter how hard he tried to hide them from himself. Grimly, he urged his horse on.


	38. B2 Ch11: Peril Rides the Night Wind

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **11 – _Peril Rides the Night Wind_**

It was growing dark by the time Diego had shared a meal in the tavern of the inn with Tomaso. The innkeeper had not been happy to have such a guest in his tavern, but he would not say so in front of Diego. However, the looks he kept throwing their way spoke for him. The other guests in the tavern found reasons to get up and leave, and eventually the innkeeper, Diego, Tomaso, and Bernardo were the only ones in the room. Tomaso ate with happy abandon, the food being so much better than the fare of the jail. He seemed to place all of his trust in Diego's ability to protect him from Hidalgo and did not seem to notice that all the people were gone. He downed the last of the wine in his cup and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

Diego had hardly touched his food. The lack of sleep was pressing down upon him, but he willed himself to stay awake. He drank only cold water, not wanting to let wine go to work on him. He could tell his mozo was feeling the same effects as well, but at least he had gotten a few more hours sleep than had Diego in the last two days. Diego felt that his mind was not as sharp as he wished it to be, but there was nothing which could be done about it at the moment. The important thing now was to find out what Tomaso knew concerning the whereabouts of the imposter and the kidnaped boy.

Bernardo had eaten quickly, then had positioned himself at the window of the tavern to observe the passers by. He and Diego had exchanged looks as the tavern emptied out, noting between them the sour glances thrown in their direction. He thought it would be a good idea to keep watch and, with a subtle nod, Diego had agreed. Bernardo noticed from his vantage point by the window that one of the soldiers from the garrison was stationed where he could keep an eye on the inn. He would see anyone coming and going from the front entrance. Bernardo signaled that Diego should come and look. As Tomaso was pouring another cup of wine, Diego stood and walked over. With a subtle move, Bernardo indicated the soldier. He saw Diego nod almost imperceptibly. They were being watched just as Hidalgo had promised.

Diego turned back and said, "Come, Señor. We will go up to my room and talk now." Tomaso nodded and drained his cup for the last time.

"It feels good to have a full belly, Señor Deputy," said Tomaso, rubbing his stomach. "I feel much better now."

"Good, then you will be ready to tell me what I want to know," said Diego, as they climbed the stairs. The innkeeper watched them go. Bernardo's eyes met the innkeeper's cold ones and he stared at the man even as they climbed the stairs. He saw the innkeeper shake his head as he went to clear the table. Then Bernardo turned at the top of the stairs and entered Diego's room.

Tomaso was seated in the room's only chair and Diego was sitting on the end of the bed. Diego motioned Bernardo to close the door and lock it. Bernardo did so and stood in front of it.

"Now, Señor," said Diego. "You will tell me how to find Zorro. I want you to take me to him."

"Oh no, Señor Deputy," said Tomaso. "I cannot."

"What do you mean you cannot?" said Diego, nonplussed. "You told me that you had seen him and knew where he was. All you have to do is take me there."

"Señor, I told you I would help you find the man you seek," said Tomaso. "I did not say how I would do that."

"You'd better not be playing games with me, Señor," said Diego very directly.

"Señor Zorro is, . . . well let us say, he moves around a lot," said Tomaso holding up his hands. "He can be in any one of a dozen places by now. When I did not return with the food, he probably moved his camp again. I will have to search for him. Alone."

Bernardo watched Diego digest this for a moment. He knew exactly what his master was thinking. Letting Tomaso lead them to Zorro, where Diego could keep the little man close at hand was one thing, but letting him leave alone was quite another. He would most certainly just slip away and never be seen again. Bernardo could never imagine that Diego would put his trust in the little thief. They would have to figure out another way to find the imposter. He was therefore surprised when Diego spoke again.

"How long will it take you to find Zorro and return?" he asked.

Bernardo's eyebrows jumped and he hoped Tomaso hadn't noticed. He schooled himself to calmness. But what was his master thinking?

Tomaso leaned his head to one side as he assessed Diego's question. "You do not continue to make threats against me," he said, looking at Diego. "And you do not question if I will return. You are most unusual, Señor Deputy." Diego steadily returned the little man's look. Tomaso continued, "You are the only man who has taken me at my word. Sí. I will do this for you, . . . out of respect, Señor Deputy. And out of gratitude for getting me out of Hidalgo's stinking jail and risking yourself for me. Sí, I will find Zorro for you. It may take me a few hours to find where he is. You will wait for me here? In this room?"

Diego nodded. "Sí, I will wait here, Señor. But I will not wait forever. I make no threats, but if I have not heard from you by ten o'clock, I promise you that I will inform Capitán Hidalgo how you made a fool of me. He will laugh for a time, a price I will have to pay, but then he will search for you again. You do not wish Capitán Hidalgo to find you again. This I promise."

"No, Señor Deputy," said Tomaso, pushing out with his hands to ward off that idea. "That will not be necessary. I will come back, you'll see. Just you stay here and wait. No one must see you without me or they will wonder where I have gone."

Diego nodded at the little man's logic. Hidalgo would have his watchers around, probably in the tavern below and the absence of Tomaso would be reported at once. "Agreed," he said.

"Good," said Tomaso, standing. "Then I will go. It is very dark now and I can get out by the window. No one will know I am gone." He went to the window and opened it. A breeze floated the curtains. Easing his good leg out of the window, he paused. Turning to look at Diego, he said, "Señor Deputy. It occurs to me that I am doing this thing at great risk to my own neck. There is the question of the reward money for Zorro." He shrugged. "I am a poor man, Señor. The reward money will make me rich and then I will not have to depend upon a life of crime to make a living." He waited.

"The reward money is yours," confirmed Diego as Tomaso smiled. "If . . . Zorro is captured. But not until then. Understood?"

"Sí, Señor Deputy," said Tomaso. He finished climbing out of the window. Just before he disappeared, climbing down the vines that clung to the wall of the inn, he stopped to remind Diego once again. "Remember, you will wait here for me. I have your word? You will not go anywhere else?"

"Yes, yes," said Diego becoming rather impatient. "I will stay right here. Until ten o'clock," he emphasized. Tomaso grimaced as he was reminded of Diego's promise and then continued down the vines. Diego and Bernardo both leaned out of the window to follow Tomaso with their eyes as he slipped around the building and disappeared into the darkness.

When Diego turned around, he found Bernardo looking at him strangely. "You are wondering why I trusted him?" he said, jerking his thumb at the empty window. Bernardo nodded. "I had no choice," was Diego's simple response. Diego scrubbed his face with both hands before he continued. By the Saints, he was tired. "I had already thrown caution to the winds when I used my authority to get Tomaso out of jail," he said. "He could have kept us here all night evading my questions or giving me false information. The results would have been the same. If I went to Capitán Hidalgo and told him I failed to get the answers as to the imposter's whereabouts, he would have grounds to countermand my orders. I am certain he has already dispatched a military courier with a message to the Magistrado concerning my actions today. The Magistrado may not condone what I have done and in fact, may censure me." Bernardo made a few signs. "Yes, I know he gave me the authority to conduct the investigation as I saw fit, but that will not matter if the Magistrado does not agree with what I have done. If I am not able to produce results, then he will have no choice. Capitán Hidalgo will push for my removal as a deputy. He may even continue to make insinuations concerning my involvement with Tomaso and the imposter. I have done nothing wrong, but the Magistrado will have to do what he thinks is best and he may listen to Hidalgo, a seasoned military officer, before he will listen to me."

Diego returned to the window. Pushing the curtain aside, he could see the merest flicker of lightning out over the mountains far to the east, and in the back of his mind he wondered if it would rain in Santa Barbara tonight. He spoke to Bernardo standing behind him. "So, I had to take a chance on Tomaso. His information to me was correct before, and he seems to think that I will deal honestly with him in the matter of the reward money for the capture Zorro. He knows he cannot give Zorro to Capitán Hidalgo and see a centavo of the reward money. His hopes are pinned upon me. Two thousand pesos are a great deal of incentive for him to return with the information, and I have to believe that he will."

Bernardo nodded. He could see Diego's predicament. He could also see Diego's dissatisfaction with how things were turning out. He was being forced into inactivity when he felt he should be doing something. But he must wait on Tomaso. He must not even leave this room or Tomaso might not come back. Bernardo mused on this for a moment. He found it somewhat odd how many times Tomaso had repeated the need for Diego to remain in his room. He tapped Diego on the shoulder and signed this to him as he turned around from the window.

"He was very insistent, wasn't he?" said Diego. Bernardo nodded. Diego thought about everything he knew about Tomaso and all which had been said between them this day. Bernardo was doing the same. Both of them pondered the little man with the limping walk. Bernardo had another observation to make which took quite a bit of signing before he could get the idea across to Diego. "Yes, I see what you mean, Bernardo," said Diego at last. "When I first met him, he was a timid little rabbit, frightened of his own shadow. Today, he was scared of Hidalgo, but as time went on, after we came to the inn, he seemed to become more confident, relaxed even. As I think about it, he very neatly maneuvered me into thinking that he would take me directly to the imposter once I got him out of jail, didn't he? He is quite clever when it suits him." Bernardo signed again. "I do not know what to make of it, Bernardo." He slapped his mozo affectionately on the shoulder. "I do not have enough problems to think about when you give me a dozen more. What kind of friend are you?" Bernardo smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. But he, like his young friend, returned to his sober thoughts as they waited for Tomaso's return.


	39. B2 Ch12: Players Assemble in the Night

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **12 – _Players Assemble in the Night_**

Don Alfredo's horse stumbled as they came to the outskirts of Santa Barbara. He had pushed the animal hard and he could tell the horse was almost done. But it was only a little further to the church. In the darkness, he could make out the bell tower in the faint flashes of the lightning coming from the east. He headed straight there. He had been to Santa Barbara a few times, but was not familiar with all of the streets. Only by sighting the bell tower did he find his way to the front of the church. Once there, he dismounted and dropped the reins. His horse stood quietly as he walked around to the gelding's off side to remove the heavy bag from the horn of the saddle. Don Alfredo looked around to see if anyone was about, but saw no one. He knew that someone was there, nevertheless. Had not the note from Zorro said he would be watched? Hefting the bag, he looked up at the bell tower momentarily before he went to the door of the church and pulled it open. With one last look around, he slipped inside.

Don Alfredo was indeed being watched. Aredo saw the don go into the church from his vantage point in an abandoned house across the street. He waited for a few minutes and saw Don Alfredo come back out of the church without the heavy bag he had been carrying. The don then mounted his horse and, after a moment's indecision while he took his bearings, rode away in the direction of El Camino Real and the Inn of the Roses. When he was certain the older man was gone, Aredo ran silently to the door of the church and entered. There were candles burning here and there, but most of the church was plunged into eerie darkness. There was a flash, and the sanctuary brightened momentarily with pale light from the far away lightning. Aredo made his way over to the confessional and opened the door. He felt inside, under the bench, and found the bag just where Don Alfredo had placed it. He tucked it under his arm and left the church quickly. He couldn't escape the feeling that he was robbing the very church by taking the money. But this money did not belong to the church, it belonged to the Magistrado and Aredo knew that he had better get the money where it belonged right away, so he walked quickly. He resisted the temptation to reach in and touch so much money. Losing his life was not worth it.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Don Alfredo entered the inn and went over to the innkeeper. "I would like a room," he said.

"Of course, Señor," said the innkeeper. "I have one room left which I can give you. Have you any luggage?"

"No," said Don Alfredo "I do not." He did not care what the innkeeper thought about that. "But my horse needs attention. See that he is rubbed down and well fed." He tossed a coin on the bar.

"Sí, Señor. I will have him taken care of right away. Now if you will just sign the register, I will show you to your room." The innkeeper pulled the big book from under the counter and opened it to the page where Diego's name was the last one written in. "If you please," he said, handing the don a quill pen. But before Don Alfredo could sign, the innkeeper noticed there was no more space on that particular page and said, "Oh, excuse me, Señor." He took the book back and turned the page over and presented it to Don Alfredo again. "You will wish something to eat or drink, Señor?" he asked.

Don Alfredo signed his name and dropped the pen wearily on the pages of the book. "No, Señor, I am not hungry. Just bring me some fresh water and some towels so that I may wash up."

The innkeeper bowed and said, "Sí, right away. If you will come with me, I will show you to your room, Señor." They went up the stairs.

After the innkeeper brought the towels and the fresh water, Don Alfredo closed the door and locked it. He washed his hands and face, running his fingers through his hair. Throwing the towel on the wash stand, Don Alfredo opened the window to let in the breeze. The lightning was closer now, though it was still silent. He could hear no thunder. He looked out into the night wondering about his Eduardo and where he could be. Was he watching the lightning also? Was he still safe? Don Alfredo refused to think otherwise. He shook his head wearily and sat in the chair next to the window. The note had said that he must take a room at the inn and wait. He had done what had been asked of him. Zorro had to restore his son to him, he just had to. He felt the knot in the pit of his stomach grow ever tighter as he waited for word of his son. Don Alfredo checked his pocket watch. It was a few minutes after seven o'clock. How long would he have to wait? How long before someone told him where his son was? Don Alfredo sat stiffly upright in his chair, staring at the door to his room while he waited and prayed. That was all he could do now, wait and pray.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

"Zorro" turned up the bottle of wine and drank the last of it. He threw it into the corner of the mostly empty room and the sound of the crash echoed in the little space. The boy jumped at the sound. "Ha,ha," laughed Zorro, as he pointed at Eduardo. "A little noise scares the little rabbit," he said. Eduardo started to sniffle again, trying unsuccessfully not to show how scared he really was of both the masked man and of being so far away from home. "Now, stop that," said Zorro. Eduardo rubbed his nose on his sleeve. "Finish eating your food," said the outlaw as he pointed to the half-finished fare on Eduardo's plate. "Leave crying to babies and women." Eduardo nodded and half-heartedly picked at his food. Zorro watched him for a moment. Then he went over to his horse, which was sharing the room with them, and reached into his saddle bag, looking for his last bottle of wine. His horse raised its head and its ears snapped forward. Zorro froze. He, too, had heard something outside. Quickly, he blew out the single candle illuminating the room and came to stand beside the door, drawing his knife as he did so. The door opened slowly and a man stuck his head inside.

"Are you there?" the man whispered.

"Sí, I am right here," said Zorro roughly, as he pressed the knife against the man's throat. He knew who it was by the voice. "You had better be glad I recognized you, or you would be lying dead now."

"Señor, please!" said the man.

Zorro removed the knife. "Wait here," he ordered. Stepping back into the room, he went over to Eduardo, whom he could just make out in the darkness, and picked him up by the back of his jacket, lifting him to his feet. "Come, little one," he said, propelling the boy along. He took Eduardo over to a small, windowless room in the back, and put him in it. "You stay here and be quiet," he told the boy. Zorro then shut the door and locked it. Going back to the rickety table, the only piece of furniture in the run down building, he struck a match, lighting the candle once again. Only then, did he allow the man waiting outside to enter the room. He saw it was indeed Aredo. "You have the money?" he asked.

Aredo held up the bag. "Sí, I have the money." He came and put it on the table. It made a pleasing clinking sound. "The father was right on time and put the money in the church just as he was instructed to do."

Zorro picked up the sack and hefted it in his hand as he felt the weight of all the money. "Ah, what I could do with all this money, my friend. I would not have to live in the hills taking orders from someone else. Me and my little señorita could go away somewhere far beyond the reaches of our slave master and make a life for ourselves."

Aredo said, "You know what that money is going to be used for, Señor. And you know you would never escape the long arm of our leader. He would find you again, just as he found you the first time."

"Sí, I know that, but it is nice to dream, eh?" said Zorro with a chuckle.

Aredo just stood there with his arms crossed. He, too, had indulged his own dreams for a moment this night. Then, missing something, he looked around. "Where is the boy?" he asked.

Zorro pointed behind him at the closed door. "In there, where he won't bother us," he said with a smile.

There was another noise outside the room. Motioning Aredo to stand on one side of the door, Zorro took the other one. Aredo pulled his own knife this time. The door opened slowly and Zorro reached out and grabbed a small man and pulled him into the room. It was Tomaso.

"Señor!" he gasped around the fist holding his jacket tightly at his throat. He stumbled as Zorro pulled him away from the door and Aredo shut it.

Zorro let Tomaso regain his balance and then let go of the small man's jacket. "It is the night for strange things to drag themselves in from the darkness. First him, then you." Laughing, he indicated Aredo and then Tomaso.

"I came here like I was told to do," said Tomaso defensively, straightening out his clothes.

"Is everything going according to plan?" asked Aredo.

Tomaso looked at him, "Sí. I have the young deputy awaiting my message that I have found Zorro. He will go anywhere I say in order to find you, Señor," he said looking at Uresti, who was dressed as Zorro. Uresti smiled at him from behind his mask. "Has the Magistrado arrived?" Tomaso asked.

"Don't use any names," hissed Aredo, and Tomaso blanched. "The boy might hear too much," he continued. Tomaso looked around, but did not see the boy. "He is in there," said Aredo pointing to the locked door. "To answer your question, no, not yet, but he and our merchant friend should be here within the hour. You and I are to go to the merchant's shop and wait for him there. Zorro will wait here for the signal, which I will bring." Zorro nodded. "Nine o'clock is still the time everything is supposed to happen, but you will not do anything until I come with the message from our leader. He will monitor the situation and make sure everything is just as he wants it before we make our move."

"Well, I hope this is wrapped up tonight," said Uresti in his gravelly voice. "I am tired of all this masquerade." He touched his mask. "But, I suppose I will have to wait and see." He sighed. "The boy and I will be right here. Waiting."

"Bueno," said Aredo. "Oh, one more thing." He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, handing it to Uresti. "You are to give this to the deputy at the same time you give him the money. The leader says it is important."

Zorro unfolded the paper and held it up to the light to read. Nodding, he muttered, "This will seal de la Vega's fate as surely as the money will." He tucked the folded paper into his banda.

His mission accomplished, Aredo said to Tomaso, "Come, we will go now." Opening the door, Aredo looked both ways and slipped out, followed by Tomaso. They were in the lower part of town, closer to the wharfs where the night seemed darker than ever despite the flicker of lightning from the mountains. The buildings here were run down and built very close together. But it was a good hiding place for "Zorro" and his charge. Aredo motioned to Tomaso and they walked quickly through the winding streets, alert for anyone who might be around. They saw no one. Apparently the threat of rain was keeping everyone at home. That suited Aredo just fine.


	40. B2 Ch13: Lightning Eyes of the Serpent

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **13 – _Lightning in the Eyes of the Serpent_**

Long ago, the two of them had lapsed into silence. Lozano's silence was that of one who was fast asleep, a result of his all night ride to Uresti's camp and back again. He was propped up in the corner, softly snoring as the coach made its rolling and bumpy way to Santa Barbara in the darkness. He had awakened only briefly as the coach had stopped twice to change horses along the way before returning to his sleep. Santiago's own silence was one of introspection with an undercurrent of electricity which would not let him sleep. His mind was seething too much to allow something as unnecessary as sleep. He reviewed once again all which had happened to bring him to Santa Barbara and he noted point by point all that still must occur to bring this night to a successful close. He knew that depending upon other men to carry out his orders was a danger. He could never quite know if they had done exactly as he had ordered them until he saw the results for himself. This was the reason he was coming to Santa Barbara tonight. He had to be there to make sure everything went as planned.

As he looked off to his right through the window, he could see the silent lightning hovering in the clouds over the mountains. The display of lightning mirrored his own thoughts. There was a charge in the air which not only found its release in the heavens, but found its way to Santiago's own breast. He looked again at Lozano and wondered how the man could sleep when so much was poised to happen. But then, he realized Lozano was just along for the ride. His destiny was already decided in that he would forever be tied to Santiago by his past. He had no future but Santiago's own. It was Santiago's to make his own destiny, his own future. And what a future it would be. The smile on his face was illuminated by another flare from the mountains. He drew a deep breath and felt the rush of stinging cold air into his lungs as he inhaled the chill winds flowing down the mountain from the storm. It was as if he were drawing the lightning into himself. He almost laughed aloud.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

When the coach pulled into Santa Barbara at last, Santiago punched Lozano and had him order the coachman to drive right up to the front of Lozano's shop where both of them got out and quickly entered the building before anyone could see them. The shades of the shop were pulled down against the windows, blocking anyone from seeing within. Once inside, Santiago looked around, holding his portfolio under his arm and settling his sword more comfortably at his side. Lozano ducked into the back of the shop and emerged with Aredo and Tomaso following behind him. Santiago felt his blood surging again as he felt the nearness of his success in trapping Diego de la Vega.

"Magistrado?" said Lozano. "May I offer you some wine or other refreshments?"

"Sí," said Santiago, putting his portfolio down upon the shop's counter, loosening the collar of his coat and taking off his gloves. "I will have some wine." Lozano nodded and again entered the back of the shop. Santiago turned his attention to the two men before him. "Well, what have you to report?" Aredo and Tomaso looked at each other wondering who should speak first. Seeing this, Santiago said, "Tomaso. Report."

Swallowing nervously, Tomaso said, "Your Excellency, I waited in the jail after the Capitán arrested me and just like you planned it, Diego de la Vega came to conduct his interrogation."

"And what were the results of his interrogation?" asked Santiago barely able to constrain himself. He must remain calm, he reminded himself. He was in control.

"He was completely taken in by our performance," said another, deeper voice. Santiago looked as Hidalgo entered the room just ahead of Lozano who was balancing a tray with some glasses and a bottle of wine. The Capitán had come into the merchant's shop through the rear door. "He thinks he will solve the riddle of Zorro and the missing child by using this one," he pointed at Tomaso, "to lead him to the masked outlaw." Hidalgo laughed. "You should have been there, Magistrado. Your assistant deputy takes himself so seriously. He even had the nerve to exert his authority in ordering me to release Tomaso into his custody."

"Just as I expected, if Tomaso did what he was supposed to do," said Santiago, taking his glass of wine from Lozano. As he drank, Santiago reflected upon Diego de la Vega. He had studied the younger man well. Believing completely in justice as an ideal, the Magistrado's motto, "justice is served" appealed to that idealism, drawing Diego like a magnet. The poet and singer of songs had a soft spot in his heart for the people who were victims of injustice. In his naivety, he would react to the carefully crafted scenario presented to him precisely the way Santiago wished. In his idealism, he was predictable. This predictability made him vulnerable. He nodded to Hidalgo and smiled knowingly. Turning to Tomaso, he said, "What happened after you left the jail?"

"Your Excellency," said Tomaso, "We went to the inn and he ordered a meal for us. Then he took me up to his room where we talked. I convinced him that I could find Zorro and told him he must stay in his room until I contacted him."

"Did he agree to remain in his room? This is important, Tomaso," said Santiago. If Diego started roaming about, he could disrupt the plan, not to mention that he might find Don Alfredo, who was to be staying at the same inn. Santiago once again rued the fact that Santa Barbara had only the one inn, necessitating that his two victims stay there at the same time.

Tomaso bowed, "Sí, Your Excellency. He agreed to remain, but only until ten o'clock. Then he promised to inform the Capitán of my absence if I had not returned by then."

Hildalgo laughed. "I could almost wish for it to happen that way, Your Excellency. It would give me great satisfaction to laugh in de la Vega's face and dress him down for losing the prisoner." Seeing Santiago's look, Hidalgo shrugged. "He gets under my skin, Your Excellency. He just seems so sure of himself and he is nothing but an untried youth, barely of age to be calling himself a man. He could use a dressing down." Then he mumbled, "Rich man's son . . . ."

"Yes, well, we now know your opinion of de la Vega," said Santiago. "But that is not important at the moment. What is important is that de la Vega will stay where we want him, until we want him." Hidalgo bowed to show his acceptance of Santiago's statements. Santiago continued. "Now, what about Don Alfredo? Aredo? What do you know?"

Aredo cleared his throat. "Don Alfredo arrived well after dark and took the money into the church just as he was instructed. As he left, he went in the direction of the inn and I suppose he took a room there as he was told to do. I took the money to Uresti, where he was waiting with the boy in the building near the wharves."

"You suppose Don Alfredo took a room at the inn?" said Santiago, glaring at Aredo. "You do not know if he took a room? You do not really know where he is do you?" Details, details. He must always attend to the details. Aredo looked frightened. "You will go at once and make sure both Don Alfredo and Diego de la Vega are in their rooms and report back to me. Immediately!"

"Sí, Magistrado!" said Aredo. He fairly ran out of the shop by the back door.

When he was gone, Santiago said, "I want none of the rest of you to take anything for granted. All must be vigilant and attend to the details." The others present nodded or answered, "Sí, Magistrado."

Santiago returned his attentions to the former prisoner. "Tomaso? Did you also go to the building where Uresti is hiding?"

"Sí, Your Excellency," said Tomaso, wondering if he was going to be found lacking. Lozano had told him what would happen to him if he failed Santiago's purpose.

"Well?" Santiago stared at him.

Not knowing exactly what information Santiago was wanting, he stammered, "After I left de la Vega, I went straight to Uresti's hiding place. Aredo was already there with the money. Uresti was there with his horse and the boy."

"So, my Zorro has the money and the boy," said Santiago. "That is good. He is waiting now for my signal?"

"Sí, Your Excellency," said Tomaso.

Two segments of his plan were in place and verified. He would know the answer to Don Alfredo's situation shortly, when it was confirmed that both he and Diego were safely in their rooms. One more point to verify. "Capitán Hidalgo, you will be ready to lead your patrol through Santa Barbara's lower quarter upon my signal?"

"Sí, Magistrado," said Hidalgo. "You just give the word, and we will swoop down upon de la Vega and capture him red handed with the evidence. He will soon occupy the cell so lately vacated by our small friend here." He slapped Tomaso on the back, nearly causing him to stumble.

"Have a care, Capitán. We still need him," said Santiago, watching Tomaso recover. Hidalgo smiled. At that moment, Aredo came back in the room. "So, what did you find?" Santiago directed at him.

"Both de la Vega and Don Alfredo are in their rooms, Magistrado," said Aredo, slightly out of breath. "I pretended I wanted to take a room for the night, but the innkeeper said he had none to spare. All were full. When he turned his back for a moment, I saw that Don Alfredo had signed the register. I asked if either one had left their rooms, and he said no, that both of them were still there. He volunteered that de la Vega had two other men with him, one a servant, and neither of them had left the room at any time. I came right back here to report, Your Excellency."

Santiago nodded. He now knew where all his players were. "Good," he said. He drank more of the wine in his glass. It was good wine. He motioned to Lozano to pour a glass for all the men. "To success, Señores," he said as he held up his glass. "Success," they all returned as they held up their glasses and drank. Santiago set down his glass and pulled out his watch. "Now to set things in motion,." he said as he looked at the time. It was a twenty minutes of nine.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Don Alfredo was so numb from just waiting and not knowing what to expect that he was not sure his mind was working properly. How long had he waited? He didn't know. He stirred himself enough to pull out his watch. He had been waiting for an eternity, but it was not even nine o'clock as yet. Sighing, he went to the basin of water on the table and splashed his face once again. He dried his face with the towel and was drying his hands when a thumping sound startled him. He dropped the towel and backed up hard against the table, threatening to knock the water pitcher to the floor. Nothing was moving in the room. Then he saw the stone on the floor. Someone had thrown a rock in his window. He picked it up. There was a note tied to it. Hastily he tore open the note and held the paper close to the candle as he read. _"You may have your son back,"_ it said. Don Alfredo's heart quickened. _"Go at once to the church and turn left on the street leading to the south. After you have crossed three streets, turn on the street heading west toward the wharves. You will come to a wagon with a broken wheel in front of an abandoned house. Wait there. At nine o'clock, your son will come to you."_ It was signed with a _"Z"_. "Your son will come to you," whispered Don Alfredo to himself. What beautiful words. Throwing the note on his bed, Don Alfredo pulled on his jacket, tucked a pistol into his belt, and grabbed his hat. In moments, he was walking through the night, using the flashes of the distant lightning to find the bell tower of the church once again. He was going to find his son. And if the opportunity presented itself, he was going to kill Zorro.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Diego was growing tired of waiting. Tomaso had been gone for over two hours. He had schooled himself to patience, sitting on his bed with one leg stretched out, the other one crooked up with his hands clasped around his knee. He was leaning back against the head board fighting the sleep which threatened to overwhelm him. He had splashed cold water on his face not once, but several times. Bernardo was sitting in the chair with his arms crossed. At the moment, both men were staring at the walls, examining in minute detail the cracks to be found there as a means to stay awake. There was nothing more to say. Either Tomaso would do as he said he would, or ten o'clock would come and Diego would have to face Hidalgo and admit he had failed. Bernardo sighed silently to himself and reached to pull out his watch at the same moment Diego was doing likewise. Silently, they smiled at each other and both checked their own watches. It still lacked several minutes before nine o'clock. Bernardo shook his head slowly and tucked his watch back in his pocket. Diego smiled ruefully and put his watch away. Both men returned to their contemplation of the cracks in the walls.

Suddenly, the curtain jerked as something hit it and fell into the room with a thud. It was a rock with a note attached. Diego sat up straight away and Bernardo quickly picked up the rock, handing it to Diego who tore away the string and opened the note. "Listen, Bernardo," he said as he read. _"Go past the church down to the next to the last street before the wharf and turn left. Walk south until you cross two more streets and wait on the corner there. He will come._ Hurry. He will not wait if you are not there by nine o'clock." Diego turned the note over and looked on both sides. "It is not signed." Bernardo imitated Tomaso's limping walk. "It must be," Diego agreed. "This is it, Bernardo. Let us go and see if we will indeed meet the imposter."

Bernardo nodded and handed Diego his jacket while he shrugged into his. Diego picked up his hat and started to go out the door before Bernardo caught his arm. The mozo pointed downstairs and made the sign of the soldiers who would be watching. "You are right, Bernardo," said Diego. "We cannot let Hidalgo know we are leaving." So very glad he had someone to watch out for him when he wasn't thinking as clearly as he should, Diego smiled his thanks at Bernardo. He walked over to the window and looked out. He could see no one. The flashes of lightning were still illuminating Santa Barbara, but it seemed the storm was just hanging over the mountains, not moving. Bernardo stood with his hands on his hips, looking skeptical. "All right. You can stay here then," said Diego as he swung his leg over the window sill and ducked out of the room. Bernardo stood there a moment and then crawled out of the window himself. He was not going to let Diego do this alone. Clinging precariously to the vines, he made his way to the ground. Diego slapped him affectionately on the back and whispered, "I knew you would come." Bernardo grinned sheepishly. "Let's go then." Diego led the way through the darkness.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Santiago had stationed himself at the window of Lozano's shop. He had ordered that all lights be extinguished. Hidalgo had returned to the garrison and only Lozano and Aredo remained with him. In the darkness, he lifted the corner of the window shade and peered out. Tomaso had two notes to deliver. From this position at the window, he could see if the notes had the desired effect. He was not disappointed as he saw Don Alfredo stealing along the silent streets. He would have to pass by Lozano's shop on his way to the church. Santiago watched until Don Alfredo turned on the street going south and was lost behind some buildings. Next, he waited to see if Diego was coming. Several minutes passed by and Santiago grew tense. He had not wanted de la Vega to come along too soon; he might see Don Alfredo, but he did not wish him to delay too long. He relaxed just a bit. He saw two figures walking along the street, keeping to the shadows. One was tall and slender and the other was shorter and more stocky. Then a flash of the ever present lightning lit the sky and he could see that it was Diego and his servant. Good. He would catch both the master and the servant at the same time. Very tidy.

Something about the way Diego moved in the darkness caught Santiago's eye, however. For some reason, he seemed to be much more at ease in the darkness. His movements were very fluid and full of confidence though he was obviously being cautious. Not the way he usually presented himself. Santiago stared thoughtfully after the two men for as long as he could see them in the darkness. _What was it about Diego de la Vega in the night which raised the little hairs on the back of his neck,_ he wondered. He ran his hand along the back of his neck, then he laughed softly at himself. He was just letting his excitement get the best of him. He knew Diego. What he had seen was just an illusion of the darkness and the flashing lightning. Dismissing his thoughts, he turned to Lozano and Aredo as he said, "Go now. De la Vega and his mozo just passed by here. Make sure that Don Alfredo is in position. When de la Vega is in position, Aredo will notify Uresti and you, Lozano, will signal Capitán Hidalgo." Both men nodded in the darkness and answered, "Sí." Santiago continued. "Aredo will stay with the boy until all is over, then he will release him to his father. Afterwards, both of you will return here."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Lozano. He turned and carefully opened the front door of the shop and both men slipped out into the streets.

Alone, Santiago watched them go. He clenched his right hand into a tight fist. What he would give to be there when Diego met Zorro! But he dared not chance being seen by either de la Vega or Don Alfredo. Too much hung in the balance to tempt fate. He would just have to wait here for Lozano's report. But in his mind's eye, he followed the courses of all the pieces he had on the board. Checkmate was only moments away in this game.


	41. B2 Ch14: Strike

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **14 – _Strike_**

Don Alfredo found the house with the wagon without too much difficulty. He saw the wheel had fallen off the axle and the whole wagon was tilted to one side. He looked around warily. This part of Santa Barbara was very run down. The house behind him was abandoned. The broken windows were mute testimony to the emptiness within its crumbling walls. Feeling exposed, Don Alfredo crouched behind the wagon, which gave him some protection. He put his hand on the grip of his pistol. From his position, he could see the intersection of the streets in front of him quite clearly when the lightning flashed. He waited.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Diego and Bernardo hurried along the streets, making their way to the meeting place. Diego was weaponless and that worried Bernardo very much. In a town like this, in a place like this, down near the wharves, anyone could leap out of the shadows with the intent to rob and kill them. As they passed by a field cart parked haphazardly in the street, Bernardo spotted a piece of wood about a foot long. It wasn't much, but he was going to do what he could to protect his master, so he picked it up and carried it along. Flashes of lightning threw everything in stark relief from time to time, and Bernardo felt exposed at each instant. But he took the opportunity to look around and see if anyone was following them in the darkness. There was still no thunder from the flashes of lightning, which gave the night such an eerie quality it made his flesh crawl. He moved up closer to Diego.

Diego moved cautiously down the streets, trying to keep his senses sharp. He listened as much as he watched for any movement which might betray anyone else who was around. He knew Bernardo was watching his back and was glad to have him there. He was keeping his fatigue at bay through sheer will power, but he was so tired he knew his thinking was sluggish. The adrenaline rush of receiving Tomaso's note was just not enough to dispel the weariness of nearly three days without sleep. But he was not going to miss the opportunity to meet the imposter face to face. Somehow, he would just have to overcome his physical limitations while he dealt with the outlaw and found some way to gain the release of little Eduardo.

When they were close to the appointed meeting place, Diego motioned Bernardo to fall in behind him as they paused in the shadow of a recessed doorway in one of the buildings. For long moments, they studied the street before them. In this part of town, buildings were not much more than huts made with mud bricks covered with thatched roofs. All of them were dark and forbidding. Diego pulled out his watch and by the next flash of the lightning, saw that it was almost nine o'clock. Motioning Bernardo to wait, Diego carefully walked across the intersection and stood waiting near the corner. He kept next to the building, so as to have his back protected, and looked in all directions. Bernardo stayed in the darkest shadows of the doorway, but peered around the corner to watch Diego and to scan the street. He tested his grip on the club and held it ready to rush to Diego's aid if necessary.

They waited. Long after the time was past as set forth in the message, they finally heard the singular sound of a horse slowly walking along. The horse paused at intervals, then walked on, coming slowly in their direction. Clop, clop, clop, clop. Neither man could see anything in the darkness. Bernardo had just decided that the sounds belonged to a ghost, when out of the darkness, a shadowy figure began to appear as the horse drew closer. Then in a sudden flash of lightning, the figure was revealed. It was Zorro. Or rather, it was the imposter. Diego stood away from the building and the imposter rode up to him. The resemblance to the real Zorro was quite good except the imposter's horse had a small snippet of white on his nose which the real Tornado did not have. The imposter's costume differed in minor points from the real one, but only someone familiar with the true Zorro and having a close look would notice. The midnight horseman pulled up and looked down upon Diego without speaking.

Diego walked over to stand at the horse's near shoulder. "You are late, Señor Zorro," he said, peering up at the man's face, trying to see any distinguishing characteristics. He could see the man would outweigh him by several pounds, and it was all muscle.

"Greetings, de la Vega," said the imposter in a gravelly voice. Diego knew now why Sergeant Garcia had thought Zorro had a cold, but he wondered why the man was speaking louder than he had need. Diego glanced around to see if anyone was about. He saw no one. His attention was drawn back as the imposter continued, "I have something to give you, which I believe you will find interesting, Señor Deputy. Here . . . ," The man pulled a folded document from his banda and handed it to Diego. Before Diego could open the document and read its contents, the imposter also loosened a bag from his saddle horn and handed it down to Diego. "Here is the money. Tomaso will be waiting to take you to the man who will supply weapons to us. Guard it well."

"What . . . ?" questioned Diego, holding up the purse which he could tell was heavy with money.

"Contact me again when you have completed your assignment," said Zorro with a smile. "It is a pleasure doing business with you."

"But, . . ." said Diego, trying to comprehend what was happening. He felt he should be understanding something which was eluding his grasp.

From across the street, Don Alfredo was seeing and hearing things which defied his ability to comprehend. He recognized Diego de la Vega in the flashing of the lightning, and he knew Zorro when he saw him. What were they doing together, meeting in the middle of the night like this? Don Alfredo looked around for his son, but saw no other people but Diego and Zorro. Then it came to him. The note found in his home after Diego had gone. The note demanding the ransom. And now, here was Diego meeting with Zorro in a town far away from his home and receiving, . . . yes, . . . receiving the very bag of money which had belonged to himself. He recognized the bag. The words he was hearing now made sense. Diego was going to use the money to buy weapons for Zorro and his army. Angry beyond words, Don Alfredo gripped the handle of his pistol tightly and he started to rise, to confront the two men, but then remembered Eduardo. He stilled himself. He could do nothing which might jeopardize the safety of his son. He was forced to wait. He stared at the scene before him which was burned into his mind with each flash of the lightning: Diego de la Vega in league with El Zorro, . . . or rather, . . . with El Diablo incarnate. Don Alfredo's fears had come to life in front of him..

Back across the street, holding both the document and the money bag, Diego understood now. He knew in the pit of his stomach he was being set up, but for whom and why? There was no one else around but him and the imposter; no audience to hear the imposter's words. Nevertheless, he was being set up. But by the Saints, he was not going to let the imposter escape. He gathered himself to leap upon the masked man and drag him from his horse.

Before he could do so, Zorro leaned over and said, "Señor de la Vega, you will be well rewarded when . . . ." Zorro stopped abruptly, then his head snapped around as the sounds of a large number of horses came from behind him, clattering loudly on the stony streets. Diego looked in the same direction and he could see a mounted lancer patrol rounding the next street corner.

Crying, "Zorro! It is Zorro!" Capitán Hidalgo pulled his sword and led his lancers in pursuit. Zorro kicked his horse into a dead run and fled through the streets. Hidalgo and his men raced after him, but Hidalgo pulled up in a sliding stop when he was even with Diego, who had not had time to move. "Ramirez, Chato, you stay with me! The rest of you, after Zorro!" he thundered, pointing with his sword as he sought to control his plunging horse. The patrol charged on after their quarry. Riding right up to Diego, who was still holding the document and the money bag, Hidalgo pointed his sword at him and said, "Señor Deputy. Why are you here? Why were you meeting with that treasonous bandit, Zorro? And what have you there in your hands?" Turning to his men, he ordered loudly, "Lancers! Hold that man!" Immediately the two lancers dismounted and ran to bracket Diego, muskets at the ready.

Diego was in no mood to be detained. "I can explain . . .," he tried to say, but was cut off.

"You can explain later, Señor," snapped Hidalgo. "Ramirez! I want that paper and that bag from him now!" Ramirez reached for the document and the money bag. He elbowed Diego sharply in the stomach as he took the items. Diego was growing angry. There was no need to treat him in this manner. The other guard, Chato, kept his musket trained on Diego while Ramirez handed the items up to Hidalgo on his horse. Hidalgo weighed the purse in his hand and listened to the clinking of metal. "A substantial sum of money in here, Señor Deputy," he said. Then he unfolded the document and began reading by the flashes of lightning. "Ho, this is your death, de la Vega!" he said triumphantly as he read on. Waving the paper, he said, "This proclaims that you are in league with the outlaw Zorro to overthrow the lawful government of California. Just as I have always suspected. You thought to make a fool of me. Well now, who is the fool, eh?" His eyes flashing, Hidalgo exclaimed, "In the name of the King, I place you under arrest on charges of conspiracy and treason. Guards! You will escort the prisoner to the jail at once!"

Diego looked around. He was still not ready to reveal himself as other than the Diego de la Vega whom everyone thought they knew, but neither did he wish to end up in Hidalgo's jail. Hidalgo enjoyed his power as commandanté of the garrison in Santa Barbara far too much. It certainly did not help that they had been adversaries before this. Diego took a step back to gain some room and held his hands out. "Capitán, if you will just let me explain, . . ." Ramirez stopped him by shoving him sharply forward with his musket, causing him to stumble. His reflexes were sluggish from his lack of sleep and he was not able to recover fast enough. He fell into Chato who pushed him back by using his musket. Before Diego could regain his balance, Ramirez struck him in the kidneys with the butt of his musket, stunning him. With no time to react, he was felled with a blow on the back of the head. He dropped face down onto the street, out cold. It was over in seconds. Hidalgo looked down and said, "He is alive, no?" At the soldiers' nods, he said, "Excellenté. What a weakling. Toss him around a little and he falls asleep. Tsk, tsk." Hidalgo shook his head in mock pity. "Pick him up and throw him on one of the horses and we will take him to the jail. There he can sleep as much as he wants to." Hidalgo laughed, then looked around. "Where is the servant? We must capture him also," he said.

Bernardo was still hidden in the dark doorway, horrified at what was going on. He didn't completely understand what it was all about. What was in that document from the false Zorro which would cause Hidalgo to react in this manner? Whatever it was it had led Hidalgo to accuse his master of treason. He had felt all along that this venture was going to turn out badly. Right now, all he knew was that his young master was injured and was being dragged off to jail. The stick of wood in his hand was worthless against the soldiers. To rush them would be folly. He did not know what else to do but to follow the men through the streets and watch for an opportunity to do something. What, he did not know. He knew he must not be seen, or he, too, would be captured and put into jail. Hidalgo's statement confirmed that.

The lancers looked up and down the street and shrugged concerning the servant's whereabouts. Then they set about picking Diego up and loading him face down across the saddle of one of their horses. Hidalgo rode about, going a short distance up and down the streets looking for any sign of the de la Vega servant. He knew right where Don Alfredo was hiding behind the wagon, but avoided that area completely. He did not want to scare the man. When he returned to the lancers, he snorted. "The servant probably ran away at the first sign of trouble." Finding him in the darkness would be practically impossible. They would find him tomorrow. "Let's go," he ordered and led his men toward the garrison.

From his hiding place, Don Alfredo watched them go, one of the lancers leading the horse carrying the unconscious Diego. What he had just witnessed left him weak in the knees. He could only shake his head in disbelief. Diego de la Vega arrested as a conspirator with Zorro. Who could have imagined it? If Diego was a conspirator with Zorro, then he was also involved in the kidnaping of Don Alfredo's own son. The very Diego who had befriended his children and taught them songs and stories right in his own home had betrayed them. Don Alfredo was so sick with dismay he could not comprehend it. The only son of his dearest friend was involved with so base a creature as Zorro and was in on the kidnaping. There was no doubt in Don Alfredo's mind about this. He had the evidence in the mysterious appearance of the note at the hacienda and in what he had just witnessed. Don Alejandro's heart would surely break when he heard the news. The older don had nothing left but his son and his rancho. Without the son, what was the rancho to him? What was his life?

Don Alfredo scrubbed his face with his hand, trying to come to grips with all which had happened to him in such a short time. He felt as if his own heart would burst. He stood up. And what about Eduardo? The note said he would be here. Panicked, Don Alfredo wanted to run up and down the streets searching for his son. Then from behind him, he heard, "Pappa! Pappa!" Whirling around, he saw Eduardo running toward him along the street. He scooped his son up in his arms. "Eduardo? Eduardo, is it really you? My son, my son." Don Alfredo choked as he held Eduardo tight, almost sobbing with affection for his first born. "Are, . . . are you all right?" he asked. Eduardo was crying too, but nodded he was all right. Looking about, Don Alfredo decided he needed to go to a place of safety; he no longer wanted to be in this part of Santa Barbara. He would return to the inn immediately. Holding Eduardo to him, he began walking as fast as he could back to the Inn of the Roses. Nothing was going to happen to Eduardo now that he was returned. Don Alfredo would give his life to make sure of that. He would think about Diego de la Vega later.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

When the Capitán and his lancers reached the garrison, Bernardo hid himself where he could watch through the open gates. The sentries in the compound soon lit extra lanterns and Bernardo could see the Capitán and his men quite clearly. Hidalgo had them stop in front of the jail and the soldiers took Diego down from the horse and carried him into the cell, dumping him unceremoniously on the bench which passed for a bed. Then they closed the cell door with a loud clang and locked it. "Post a guard," said Hidalgo to the sentry. "Get Fuentes. He will stand guard until further notice." The sentry nodded and went at once. Hidalgo then dismounted and walked to his office, leaving the other two soldiers to take care of the horses. The sentry returned with Fuentes and gave him his orders, handing him the keys to the cell. Fuentes took up his post just outside the jail cell.

From his hiding place, Bernardo was thinking very hard about what to do. He and Diego were in an unfamiliar town where there was no one to help them but themselves. He had been inside the garrison only once and was not all that familiar with it. All he knew was his master had been falsely accused, and, as the real Zorro was now locked up in the same cell as his master, it fell to him to right the wrong. The real Zorro would go into that garrison and free the falsely accused until that man could be cleared. So, that is what Bernardo would have to do. Set Diego free. But how?


	42. B2 Ch15: The Poison's Work Begins

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **15 – _The Poison's Work Begins_**

Santiago had waited in Lozano's shop until he had seen Hidalgo leading his men back to the garrison. There was a man slung face down across the saddle of one of the horses. He saw Hidalgo give a nod in his direction and sheath his sword, a prearranged signal. He knew it was de la Vega on the horse, and that everything had gone as planned. Except, he saw no sign of the servant. Perhaps Hidalgo had already ended the servant's life. It seemed Hidalgo had gotten a little rough with their prize prisoner, but he was alive or else Hidalgo would not have sheathed his sword. However, even if the servant had escaped for now, he would soon be rounded up. He was too simple to elude them for long. Santiago was elated. He clenched his fist over his heart as he sought to contain himself. The first part of his plan to bring old Don Alejandro to his knees was in place. He could hardly wait to hear all the details from his operatives. But now he had to get over to the inn.

Checking carefully before he stepped out of the front door of Lozano's shop which was still dark, he left the shop and walked up the street. Quickly, he made his way over to the Inn of the Roses. As he did so, he noticed the lightning which had illuminated the skies on this night of nights was becoming much less noticeable. Apparently the storm over the mountains was dying down at last. A shame really. It would have suited Santiago if the whole sky were to light up with the brilliance of heavenly fire, a mirror reflecting the fire in his soul. As if in answer to his thoughts, a wild flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed moments later by the only peal of thunder which had been heard all night. The thunder seemed to roll from one end of the earth to the other before dying away. Santiago was delighted. Laughing to himself, he strode toward the inn. A truly splendid night. Yes it was.

He pushed open the door of the tavern and entered. The innkeeper recognized the Magistrado from his previous visits earlier in the year. "Your Excellency," he said, coming from behind his bar. "Welcome to my humble establishment. How may I be of service?"

"A table and a bottle of your finest wine," said Santiago with a smile.

"Sí, Your Excellency. Choose any table you wish and I will bring the wine to you immediately," said the innkeeper, bowing.

Santiago took off his gloves and his hat as he surveyed the tavern. He chose a table near the fireplace with a view of the front entrance. He was expecting company at any moment. He seated himself and moments later the innkeeper was pouring his wine. Holding his glass up to the light, Santiago toasted himself and drank. He thought to himself that perhaps he had never tasted a finer wine. Then he laughed to himself that most likely it was not the wine which tasted so good, but victory. Once again, he schooled himself to calm control. Dismissing the innkeeper, he settled in to wait.

He did not have to wait long. The door opened and Don Alfredo walked in carrying his son in his arms. "Magistrado!" he exclaimed as he saw Santiago at one of the tables.

Santiago stood. "Don Alfredo, what are you doing here?" he questioned as if he had not the slightest idea of the night's happenings. He smiled broadly as he saw the boy. "Is that Eduardo you have there? How is this possible? Please, come and sit here by the fire, man. You look as if you had seen a ghost. Innkeeper! Another glass for Don Alfredo." Santiago was the efficient host, seeing to the comfort of his guest, or rather, his star witness at the coming trial. Don Alfredo sat down, keeping Eduardo on his lap, encircled by his left arm. He took the glass of wine from the innkeeper and drained it.

"Your pardon, Excellency," said Don Alfredo, as some of the color returned to his face.

"It's quite all right," said Santiago, refilling Don Alfredo's glass. "Just what has happened?"

"I, . . . I have seen something tonight I thought never to see," said Don Alfredo, then he trailed off.

"Please, Don Alfredo, you must tell me," said Santiago. "I am your friend, am I not? As well as His Majesty's representative. Tell me so that I may help you."

These words reached Don Alfredo and he took a deep breath. "I came here tonight to pay the ransom for my son, Eduardo," he said, stroking his son's hair. "I put the money where I was told to and took a room here at the inn. A message was delivered to me to go to a certain part of town to find my son. I went. While there, I witnessed, . . . I witnessed, . . . ." Don Alfredo could not speak. He just shook his head.

"Come, come," encouraged Santiago. "You can tell me the rest."

Don Alfredo swallowed before he said, "I witnessed Zorro giving my money, . . . my ransom money to Diego de la Vega. He told Diego that he was to use it to buy weapons for Zorro's army. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, Your Excellency, but I know what I heard. I know what I saw."

Don Alfredo's distressed eyes met Santiago's. Oh, this was so delicious, thought Santiago. Everything had played out just as he had imagined it. But now to act out his part. "Let me get this straight, Señor," he said. "You are saying you saw my deputy, Diego de la Vega, take money from the bandit, Zorro, who had kidnaped your son?" Don Alfredo nodded and took another drink of wine. "You are sure it was Diego?" questioned Santiago. Another nod. "How can you be sure it was the money you paid in ransom for your dear child, if I may ask?"

"I recognized the bag it was in, Your Excellency. I could not mistake it." Don Alfredo was certain.

"This is very distressing, Don Alfredo," said Santiago. "But, I am forced to believe you though it strains my imagination to the limit. I know you are an honorable and truthful man." Don Alfredo met his eyes. "And now, based upon your testimony, I must see to the arrest of my own assistant deputy on charges of kidnaping and conspiracy with a known outlaw." He sighed. Then he leaned forward, returning to the efficient Magistrado, which Don Alfredo was expecting him to be. "I must go at once and find Diego de la Vega. Do you know where he is, Don Alfredo?"

"Your Excellency," said Don Alfredo. "The commandanté has him in custody at this very moment. The commandanté and his patrol chanced upon the meeting between Zorro and Diego. While some of the lancers chased Zorro, the commandanté arrested Diego. I should think Diego is in the garrison jail by now."

Santiago nodded. "Capitán Hidalgo is a good man. I had sent him a message to keep an eye on my deputy for me. He has done me a favor by capturing de la Vega. I must commend him for his prompt action. I shall go in a moment to the garrison and see for myself what is the situation," said Santiago. Leaning forward, Santiago put his hand on Don Alfredo's arm. "But first Don Alfredo, tell me. Why did you not come to me when you received the ransom note? I am deeply hurt you did not have enough faith in me to let me help you." Santiago could tell from the look on the don's face that Don Alfredo now felt he had let the Magistrado down and would do all he could to make up for it. Don Alfredo was his for as long as he wanted him. Santiago suppressed a smile.

"Well," said Don Alfredo, looking uncomfortable. "It began when I got home after Eduardo was kidnaped. Diego de la Vega was there and . . . ."

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

As he looked around, trying to decide what to do to get Diego out of the jail, Bernardo noticed a pile of discarded crates to one side of the inn, toward the back. An idea came to him. He ran over to the crates and made sure no one was looking. Moving them away from the building took but a moment. He set them in a pile about twenty paces from the inn's back door. Then he went to the lantern hanging at the door and took out the candle. Cupping the flame with his hand, he walked steadily over to the crates and set them on fire. When they were fully engulfed, he ran to the inn's back door and pounded on it loudly. Then he ran and hid himself where he could see the fire at the inn and the front of the garrison at the same time. A woman screamed loudly and Bernardo supposed the innkeeper's wife had opened the back door and had seen the fire. This brought the innkeeper and many of the customers to see what was the matter. A man ran around the inn, straight to the garrison and yelled loudly about the fire. Fire was always a danger in a pueblo which could not be ignored. Soon, soldiers from the garrison and other towns people were pouring out as they went to help put out the fire.

Inside the inn, Don Alfredo's recitation was interrupted by the cry of fire. Grasping Eduardo tightly, he looked as though he was prepared to flee. Too much was happening in one night for him. "Wait here," said Santiago. "Do not leave until I come for you," he ordered. Don Alfredo swallowed, but stayed in his seat. Santiago walked quickly to the back door of the inn and went out. He saw that the men and soldiers had quickly set up a bucket brigade and were working on putting the fire out. He wondered how it had gotten started. Seeing things were under control, he went back to console his prize witness.

From across the way, seeing that his diversion was working, Bernardo slipped up along the wall of the garrison, keeping to the shadows. Most of the lightning had died down by now and he was glad for the darkness. The soldier guarding the prisoner, being curious, had walked outside of the gates, trying to see what was going on at the inn. Bernardo recognized him as Fuentes. Capitán Hidalgo was already at the inn, directing the firefighting efforts. Everyone's attention was on the fire and Bernardo slipped silently into the compound behind Fuentes, making his way over to the jail. He could see Diego was lying on the bench, still unconscious. Quickly, Bernardo pulled a little tool from his shoe which he was never without. It was a piece of metal which he used as a lock pick. Once again, he was grateful for his past life before he met Diego. Magic was not the only skill he had learned. Looking back over his shoulder at the soldiers, he worked on the lock. After a moment, he felt as if he almost had it. He squinted at the lock and concentrated. Just a little more and . . . .

Capitán Hidalgo looked down with satisfaction on the inert body of the servant. It had come to him that the pile of crates was in a very strange place, not at all where he had ever seen crates before. He concluded rightly the fire must be just a diversion. Thinking he knew why, he had hurried back to the garrison in time to see the de la Vega servant trying to free his master. Motioning Fuentes to silence, he had stolen up on the servant and dropped him with a blow from the butt of his pistol. "Fuentes!" he growled. "Get over here immediately!" Fuentes ran over. "Why did you leave your post? Look what almost happened!" Fuentes just clutched his musket and swallowed nervously. "Never mind," growled Hidalgo. "Throw this worthless thing in the other cell and do not ever let me find you away from your post again!"

"Sí, Capitán Hidalgo, Sí," said Fuentes, saluting smartly.

Hidalgo watched as de la Vega's servant was dragged into the cell and left on the floor. Fuentes took up his position and saluted again. Nodding sternly at the guard, Hidalgo turned and saw that the soldiers who had been fighting the fire were returning to the garrison. He gave orders they were to return to their barracks. He was not expecting the lancer patrol to return before morning. They were chasing Zorro and they would either catch him or spend the night trying. Hidalgo laughed as he wondered just what the Magistrado would do if he were to find both de la Vega and his pet Zorro in the same jail. That would just be the Magistrado's problem to deal with. Smiling and shaking his head, Hidalgo went into his office.

A short time later, Santiago arrived at the garrison gates demanding entrance. The Magistrado was admitted without delay and the guards were cautioned that no one was to disturb the Capitán and his guest.


	43. B2 Ch16: Chains on the Heart

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **16 – _Chains on the Heart_**

When Diego came to, he lay motionless for a moment, too groggy to think. Then he rubbed his face with his hand, and tried to sit up. The world spun around for a few moments before it finally came to rest. The terrible ache in his head pounded for a space and then settled down to a dull throb. Taking notice of the moon, which was just rising, he judged it to be quite late in the night. But wait. Why was he seeing the moon through vertical bars? Bars that looked like those of a jail? He blinked several times and tried to get his bearings. Finally it penetrated his mind that he was indeed in a jail cell. Then he remembered the night's events. Zorro. Hidalgo. The realization of the trap to which he had fallen prey.

He heard a soft rustling and turned to see Bernardo looking at him from the cell next to his with a worried expression. So both of them were imprisoned. That answered one question. He waved a hand at Bernardo to show he was all right and saw his servant smile in relief. Looking around to see that they were not being observed, he leaned next to the bars and asked in a low voice, "Are you all right?" Bernardo nodded to show that he was, although he rubbed the back of his head ruefully. "If that is where they hit you, then I know you are not hurt, you thick headed fellow," Diego said fondly, glad to see his friend was not badly hurt. Bernardo nodded and pointed to the back of his head and then at Diego. "Sí, my friend. I suffered the same fate. You saw the whole thing?" Bernardo nodded and put his hand behind his ear to show he had heard everything as well.

"We have obviously been set up, Bernardo," Diego said with conviction. Bernardo nodded thoughtfully. It was the only thing that made sense. "You were right to be concerned about the meeting with the false Zorro. What he said had all the airs of being rehearsed and Capitán Hidalgo was too conveniently close by. I'm sure what was done was for an audience, but I did not see anyone around. Did you?" Bernardo shook his head no and winced at the twinge of pain the motion caused. He put his hand on his sore spot again. Diego continued, "At any rate, we have been framed. The money and that document were part of the plan. I wish I knew just what the paper contained, but the Capitán took it before I had a chance to read it. Whatever it said seemed to satisfy Hidalgo that I am a traitor and conspirator with the imposter." Diego sighed. "We need answers, Bernardo. Who set us up? And why?" Bernardo shrugged his shoulders and held up his hands helplessly.

Diego got up, careful of his balance, and went to the bars of his cell. "Guard!" he called, as he rubbed the tender spot on the back of his own head. "Guard!"

"What do you want?" came the gruff response of Fuentes.

"I wish to speak to the Capitán," said Diego.

"The Capitán cannot be disturbed."

Diego drew himself up with all the dignity he possessed under the circumstances and said, "I am the Assistant Deputy Magistrado and I wish to speak to the Capitán. Now!" The last word was spoken quite loudly.

Fuentes pointed his musket firmly at Diego's mid-section. "I said the Capitán cannot be disturbed, Señor. You will be silent or I will silence you. Permanently." Fuentes was not going to back down. He had already incurred Hidalgo's disfavor once tonight. He would not do so again. Not for anyone.

Diego held up his hands and backed away from the bars to show his compliance. Apparently any influence he'd had as a government official or as a hacendado was lost on this man. Fuentes watched closely for a moment, then walked back to his post, shouldering his musket.

Bernardo motioned to Diego and made the sign of the "Z" in the air as he shrugged his shoulders.

Diego moved closer to Bernardo and spoke in low tones so the soldier could not hear. "Sí, Bernardo. We need El Zorro to rescue both of us this time. But he is being detained at the moment," Diego said with a lightness he hoped was genuine. Bernardo sighed. Both Diego and Bernardo spent the next few moments examining their cells, seeking a way out. Bernardo had lost his little lock pick when he had been knocked out. Where it was, he did not know. They both knew the cells in Los Angeles were not the best in the world, but they were much better than the cells of Santa Barbara. At least Sergeant Garcia had his cells cleaned from time to time. These had not been cleaned in quite a while. Despite that difference, these cells had one thing in common with those of Los Angeles. Without a key or a way to pick the lock, there was no way out.

Diego was feeling a little desperate now. He had never liked being in a position of helplessness and being locked up without an avenue of escape was chafing. Even if he found a way out and then chose not to use it, he would at least have some measure of control over his fate. He would rather have the matter cleared up with the Capitán than to run like a criminal and then hope to plead his case. But a fair hearing before Hidalgo might not be possible given the Capitán's dislike for Diego. It would be nice to have an alternative plan, he thought as he looked around his cell once again, but apparently that was not possible.

"If only my father or Señor Santiago were here, we would soon get to the bottom of this," he said to Bernardo softly. "Everyone knows I am no traitor and neither my father nor the Magistrado would leave one stone unturned to see that true "justice is served" in my case." Bernardo just shrugged his shoulders and held up his hands as he shook his head, unconvinced. Diego looked at him for a moment, then glanced at Fuentes who still had his back to them. "You do not mean to imply that my father would not come to my defense, do you?" he asked with narrowed eyes. Bernardo shook his head emphatically, no. Then he held up two fingers and pointed to the second one. "The Magistrado?" Bernardo nodded. "You are trying to tell me the Magistrado is mixed up in this?" Bernardo nodded, shrugging slightly to show that he had no real proof, only his gut feelings. Diego studied Bernardo for a moment. He respected his servant's instincts, but he had to be wrong in this case. Despite all which had happened, Diego was not willing to entertain the idea that the man he looked to as an honorable representative of the law and a leader in the cause of justice was mixed up in this whole affair. Not yet, anyway.

Before he could say anything further on the subject, their attention was drawn to the commandanté's office. Two men were coming out and heading their way. One was Hidalgo and one was Señor Santiago, the Magistrado. Diego recognized him even in the gloom of the night by his stature and bearing. Diego was surprised to see that Santiago was here in Santa Barbara. After all, he was supposed to be back in Los Angeles conducting the search for the missing child. Bernardo looked meaningfully at him.

Diego did not respond.

He couldn't.

Santiago walked boldly over to Diego's cell followed closely by Capitán Hidalgo. Characteristically gripping his sword, he gazed upon Diego for a long moment with a cold air of superiority which seemed to slip from him unawares. His eyes were pools of darkness that Diego could not plumb. Diego had never seen this aspect of the Magistrado before. It brought back resounding memories of the former Magistrado, Carlos Galindo, and of José Varga, the Eagle. They, too, had maintained such an air. But Diego considered he must be mistaken. Jorgé Santiago was not such a man. He had worked too closely with the Magistrado to have missed that.

"Magistrado," he bowed and greeted Santiago.

"De la Vega," said Santiago coldly. Not even cursory courtesy was being extended to him. This set Diego aback. He felt the first sensations of dread running up his spine. Santiago's next words confirmed Bernardo's suspicions and dragged an unwilling Diego to the same conclusion as the Magistrado spoke over his shoulder to Hidalgo in a dry and condescending tone. "A traitor, Capitán. We have caught ourselves a traitor. How fortunate, my dear Capitán, that you were in the right place to capture young de le Vega here. The money and the document which you found on his person should be just what I need to prove my case of conspiracy and treason against the prisoner." Then he paused for effect as he delivered his next words. "Everyone will see that under my rule, justice will indeed be served." Santiago then smiled, but his dark eyes were hard.

"Sí, Excellency," said Hidalgo, smiling in his turn.

At this moment, Diego knew absolutely without a doubt Santiago was the one who had set him up. If Santiago had been the fair and honorable Magistrado he claimed to be, he should have been asking Diego for his side of the story. But he did not. His conclusions about Diego were already fully formed. The ground seemed to sink beneath Diego's feet and he gripped the bars of his cell tightly to keep from swaying. The word "betrayed" did not begin to cover what he felt. And not just because he was charged with a crime. He had been charged with many crimes as Zorro. He had even been charged with the crime of being Zorro. No, it was because he had been betrayed by a man who purported to be a man of the law, a man of justice, a man whom Diego had admired and worked with side by side. He had given his complete trust to this man and he had used Diego for his own purposes, whatever they were. Diego tasted a vile bitterness in his mouth. Through clenched teeth he said, "Do not think I will not fight this, Señor Magistrado. I am no traitor and you know it."

Santiago laughed. "You? Fight? You are in no position to fight. The evidence is overwhelming. I have unimpeachable witnesses. You will be tried, convicted and hanged as a traitor, de la Vega. As will your servant."

Diego stood at the bars of his cell, right in front of Santiago, eye to eye. "My father will find out all that has happened and he will apply to the Governor for help. You have been the wolf in sheep's clothing, Señor Magistrado, but the Governor _is_ on the side of the law. He will see that _true_ justice is done."

"You are wrong, young de la Vega," said Santiago. "I am not the wolf. I am the serpent in your garden of naivety." Diego's eyes held Santiago's for a moment, then dropped to focus on the ornate hilt of Santiago's sword. As if reading Diego's thoughts, Santiago traced with his finger the sinuous curves of the serpent engraved there which flashed in the lamp light. "Deceiving you was just as easy as convincing Eve to taste the forbidden fruit. Perhaps easier." Santiago smiled. Diego clenched his teeth. He could not argue with the observation. Santiago continued, "Now listen carefully." His eyes grew hard and the smile disappeared. "I have a self-made destiny which I intend to see fulfilled. You, my young friend, are unfortunately a casualty of that destiny. Your father will become another casualty . . . unless . . . "

"My father?" said Diego, becoming utterly still with dread. "What is this 'unless'?"

"Unless you keep your mouth closed. Evidence has been 'found' which will convict you as a traitor. How hard do you think I would have to search to 'find' evidence to name your father a traitor as well? A co-conspirator with you perhaps? And, in any event, I control the military both here and in Los Angeles. Your father would never have a chance to reach the Governor."

Diego considered this. He knew the power the Magistrado wielded in the district. It was the same problem he had encountered with Capitán Monastario when he first returned from Spain. With the military under his control, Santiago effectively had his own little empire within the district. Zorro had been effective against Monastario because he had not gone up against him head to head, but had used his cunning to harry and disrupt the commandanté's plans. To do this, he had to work outside the law while at the same time pursuing justice for the people. The Magistrado was a much more formidable foe however, because he also used cunning. His serpent had been so very well hidden that not even Diego had seen him until he was well bitten. Santiago's reputation with the people of the district, the military and the Governor was beyond reproach. To make accusations against him without concrete proof was folly. However, should the Magistrado make accusations of treason against his father, given what he had just done to frame Diego for that particular crime, Diego had no doubt the outcome would be assured. Diego looked into Santiago's dark eyes and saw his father's death written there unless he agreed to comply.

Santiago watched Diego with satisfaction. He could see the thoughts churning in the younger man's mind. He had him right where he wanted him. Diego was too softhearted to see his father harmed. He would do anything rather than risk that. He smiled. Just to make sure Diego was seeing the whole picture, he said, "You understand, do you not, if you say one word to your father, defend yourself in any way to anyone, his lifeless body will swing next to yours on the gallows as a traitor? There will be three corpses hanging there instead of two?" He saw in Diego's face the answer he expected. "Good. Then we understand each other. You will be constantly watched and everything you say or do will be reported to me. Do not disappoint me. Remember. Your father's life is in your hands."

Turning to Capitán Hidalgo, he said, "Capitán. You will personally escort these prisoners to Los Angeles when it is time. The trial will be held there and Judge Vasca will be presiding." Hidalgo bowed in acknowledgment. "You see, Diego?" Santiago said, returning to the prisoner. "Only the finest judge will do for the trial of the son of Don Alejandro de la Vega. When he hands down the verdict of guilty, there can be no question of his impartial judgement. Everyone knows Judge Vasca is the most honorable and most honest judge in all California. Do you not agree, Diego?" Diego knew all about Judge Vasca, but he chose to say nothing to Santiago, who was just toying with him now. Seeing there was no response from his prisoner, Santiago said to Hidalgo, "I am returning to the inn now. Take good care of our guests."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Hidalgo.

Turning back to Diego, Santiago said with a smile, "I trust you will not object to my taking your room for the night? I see that you have other accommodations." Hidalgo laughed out loud at this. Santiago walked away briskly, rather pleased at his joke. Hidalgo escorted him to the garrison gates.

Diego was seething. He watched Santiago as he was leaving the garrison. He paced back and forth a few times and then his eyes met Bernardo's. Without words, he acknowledged his friend's acumen regarding Santiago. Bernardo nodded solemnly. It did not please him to be right in this instance. For Diego, the worst thing about his predicament at the moment was that he had no answer to the question which now burned within him. Why was he being framed as a traitor? Just what was it his death would buy?

Desperately, Diego called out through the bars of his cell, "Please, just tell me one thing, Señor! Why? Why have you done this?"

Santiago did not turn around but kept walking. His laughter floated back to Diego on the night air. That was all the answer he was going to get. Diego stared after Santiago for a long time, continuing to seethe inwardly. Finally, he rattled the bars of his cell in anger and threw himself on his bed to think.

He realized that as long as he was held prisoner, he could do very little to help himself. Bernardo was imprisoned in the cell next to his and was just as helpless as he was to do anything. The soldiers under the command of Capitán Hidalgo were a hard lot. If he had unlimited time, he might have used the Fox's wiles to provide a means of escape for both he and Bernardo, but their prospects looked dim. Because of Santiago's threat, he could not involve his father in an escape attempt once they reached the pueblo of Los Angeles. And, as he thought about it, any escape attempt by him or Bernardo might bring Santiago's threat down upon his father whether the attempt took place here, or in Los Angeles. He sighed. Santiago had read him right enough when he had made that threat. He would do nothing to endanger the life of his father even if it meant the laying down of his own life. How could that man have read him so clearly and yet he had failed so utterly to read the intent of Santiago's black heart?

Diego sat up on his bed and leaned back against the wall. Bernardo, sitting on his own bed, was looking at him through the bars between their cells. In a low voice, so that no one else could hear, Diego said, "Well, my friend. This is it. The Magistrado has us neatly caught and our fate seems to be ordained. I can see no way out of the trap which does not doom my father as well. We must not try to escape, nor can we defend ourselves, or Santiago will carry out his threat. I absolutely have no doubt of this. He has dropped the veil between the two of us and I see him now for who he really is. I see now his utter ruthlessness, which you somehow sensed and tried to warn me about. I will not trade my father's life for my own and the Magistrado knows it. Know this, however. I will plead for you to be released when we are tried. Judge Vasca is a good man. He may listen to me when I tell him of your 'condition'. You need not die just from your association with me. You did not ask to be thrust into this." Diego gazed at the floor.

Bernardo did not move for a few moments. He knew the anguish his young master was feeling at being so neatly trapped that nothing could be done to help himself or his servant. Bernardo, himself, felt so inadequate because he had not been able to express to Diego just why he had felt that Santiago was so dangerous to his young master. If Diego died, then his life would have no further meaning. He could not live knowing he had failed his master. He put his hand through the bar and touched Diego's arm to gain his attention. When Diego looked at him, he began to sign. Loosely translated what he said was this: "Where you lead, my master, I will follow. Where you go, my master, I will go. If you live, my master, I will live. If you die, my friend, I will not live." Tears chased themselves slowly down Bernardo's cheeks.

Diego's heart was touched beyond words. All he could do was reach through the bars and grip Bernardo's arm tightly. His voice full of emotion, he said, "No one could ask for a truer friend than you are to me, Bernardo." Bernardo smiled through his tears. Diego looked up at the night sky visible from their cells. "All right then. We are together in this thing. Our only hope is to pray for a miracle. When we can no longer do anything to help ourselves, there is always someone to whom we can turn in the hour of need. If not for succor, then for comfort." He squeezed Bernardo's arm fondly. "Yes, we will pray."

In the darkness of their cells, the two men crossed themselves and began to pray together.


	44. B2 Ch17: The Basking Serpent

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **17 – _The Basking Serpent_**

Diego was somewhat startled when he was awakened by the noises of the garrison coming alive. Blearily, he rubbed his eyes and slowly sat up. Although his life was hanging in the balances of Santiago's making, his three-day forfeit of sleep had simply caught up with him. How long he had been asleep he did not know, but the sun had not yet risen. There was only a hint of pink on the eastern horizon. He looked into the other cell and found Bernardo already awake and watching him. They smiled sadly at each other in greeting. Diego scrubbed his face with his hands and stood up, finding himself quite stiff from sleeping on the hard bench which passed for a bed in this place. Putting one hand to the small of his back, he stretched as he walked to the front of the cell to look around. A couple of the soldiers were raising the flag on the pole in front of Hidalgo's office while others were seeing to the horses or were drawing water from the well. There was no sign of Capitán Hidalgo, as yet. Fuentes, the soldier assigned to guard them, was still standing at his post, but looked as though he was ready to get some sleep himself. Diego was thirsty and looked around for a bucket or anything which might have water in it, but was disappointed. He called out to Fuentes, who turned to look at him.

"Señor, please, could we have some water?" he asked.

"Until Capitán Hidalgo orders it, you will have nothing," said Fuentes, turning his back to the prisoners.

Diego looked at Bernardo who held up his hands and shrugged. Then the servant made a shoving motion with his hand which said, _"He does not care and we will be given nothing."_ Diego nodded thoughtfully. He returned to his bed and sat down again, leaning back against the wall with his arm thrown across his raised knee. There was nothing more to be said at this point. All they could do was watch and wait.

After a time, Capitán Hidalgo came out of his quarters, pulling on his gloves as he surveyed the garrison. The first place his eyes raked were the jail cells. He noted with satisfaction his two prisoners were still there, not that he expected anything else. He did not think de la Vega could fight his way out of a feather pillow and his servant was no better. A satisfied smile found its way to his face. Then, further ignoring the prisoners, he went on to issue his orders of the day to the soldiers. The patrol which had chased Zorro had come back in the early hours of the morning without finding their prize. Hidalgo chose another patrol to go out and continue the search. He must keep up appearances as per the Magistrado's instructions. Everyone must know that the Magistrado and the military were doing all they could to capture the masked rider. When he turned back, he noticed de la Vega was standing at the front bars of the cell, watching him. He went over.

"Well, Señor _Assistant_ Deputy that was," he said. "Have you passed a pleasant night in my jail?"

Knowing a display of temper would only make things worse, Diego replied, "My servant and I want for nothing but some food and water, if you please, Capitán."

Hidalgo's eyes narrowed. He had expected some form of cries of innocence and demands to be released. That is what most others would have done in de la Vega's position. The charges of treason and conspiracy were charges of death. Most men so charged would be quivering puddles of fear. But not this de la Vega. He seemed so calm as to be almost serene in his jail cell. Shaking his head, somehow disappointed by de la Vega's reaction, he just turned and walked away. When he passed Fuentes he said, "Give them each a bucket of water and a plate of food. Then you can turn in. Tell Castillo he will take your place as guard for the prisoners."

"Sí, Capitán," said Fuentes, saluting. As Hidalgo continued to his office, Fuentes went to the well and drew two buckets of water which he placed before the cells. Then he disappeared into the barracks for a few minutes before returning with two plates of very plain food. He put one down on top of one of the buckets and motioned Diego to step back. He opened the cell and put the other plate of food on the foot of his bed. Then he put the water bucket in the cell and locked the door again. He did the same for Bernardo. Then he walked into the barracks and did not come out.

Taking the plate of food, Bernardo sniffed it delicately and wrinkled his nose. Diego took his. Softly, so that no one else could hear, Diego said, "Eat it. It is what the soldiers eat. Besides, we do not know if we will get anymore depending on the capitan's mood. I don't know about you, but I am hungry." Bernardo made a face, but sat down on the edge of his bed and started to eat, following Diego's lead. As they ate, Diego watched the activities of the garrison. Their new guard, whom he supposed was Castillo, came and took up his post, eyeing the prisoners coldly. Then the lancer patrol mounted and was just leaving as the sun came up over the hills.

The sentries left the gates open and Diego was able to see the front of the Inn of the Roses across the way. He could see there were some people moving about even this early. One or two of them paused as they passed by the gates and looked in at the prisoners before moving on. As Diego finished his food, he took a good drink of water from the bucket, then proceeded to wash his face and hands with the rest, running his fingers through his hair. As he straightened up, he looked back at the garrison gates. He and Bernardo now had quite an audience. There were at least twenty people from all walks of life gathered there watching him and more were coming all the time. There was a general murmur coming from them which was taking on an angry tone. He saw that some were just curious, but some wore hard faces, and those were the ones making angry sounds as they pointed at the jail. He could not hear what they were saying, but he could guess. Accused traitors would not be very welcome here or anywhere for that matter. He and Bernardo shared a look.

Their attention was drawn to the gate once again as the sentries cried out, "Make way! Make way! Stand back for the Magistrado!", as they pushed the crowd back with their muskets. Through the opening strode Santiago, immaculately dressed, looking every bit the part of the ranking official of the district. The sun glinted off of the hilt of his sword as it caught the light. Diego thought the Magistrado made a very fine picture, just as he always had whenever he had seen Santiago in the past. Tall and lithe, he carried himself as a man of supreme confidence, but now Diego saw a difference in the way Santiago carried himself. Now Diego saw a man who was cunning and ruthless in a way that not even José Sebastian de Varga had been. Only those who knew Santiago well would know the difference between the good and honorable man Santiago outwardly portrayed and the inner man who was there if you knew how to look. Diego knew perfectly well how to look now. He no longer saw the Santiago he wished to see. He saw the man as he really was. A dark eyed serpent. He shuddered inwardly as he realized Santiago was secretly enjoying having Diego see him for who he really was, knowing there was nothing that Diego could say or do. He could see it in the most subtle smile and in those dark eyes which now mirrored the Magistrado's soul.

Santiago was accompanied by a man and a boy who followed a step or two behind him. When they came through the crowd, Diego could see that it was Don Alfredo and little Eduardo. Don Alfredo held onto Eduardo's hand, not letting his son out of his sight. He looked at the cell where Diego was standing at the bars and his face became even more of a mask than it had been. Diego could see no warmth in his eyes as there was when he visited the don's hacienda in the days before Santiago had asked him to become his deputy. But why was Don Alfredo here in Santa Barbara, he wondered. He had Eduardo with him and thankfully Diego could see that the boy was not hurt. How had Don Alfredo gotten the boy back? His being with Santiago raised alarm bells in Diego's mind, but what was the connection there? Had the false Zorro been caught? Is that why Eduardo was free? There were so many questions for which Diego wanted answers. Santiago touched Don Alfredo's arm and indicated he should proceed into Hidalgo's office, which they all did. The door closed behind them leaving Diego with his questions unanswered and a growing crowd at the gate which seemed to find both he and Bernardo objects of terrible fascination.

After half an hour, the door opened and Don Alfredo and Eduardo were ushered out by Capitán Hidalgo. Don Alfredo did not look in the direction of the jail at all as the Capitán accompanied the two of them to the gates. Little Eduardo, being pulled along by the hand, nevertheless managed to look back at the jail and with a smile, he waved at Diego. Diego waved back. Don Alfredo noticed what his son was doing and made him stop. This saddened Diego immensely. Hidalgo had the sentries clear everyone away from the gates and saw that Don Alfredo and his boy were well on their way to the inn before turning back to the garrison. He went immediately into his office and shut the door.

Diego paced up and down his cell as he was thinking. He put everything together he knew about the situation. One, Santiago appears on the scene. Two, a false Zorro appears in the district. Three, rumors of Zorro's army were spread everywhere. Four, things escalate until Don Alfredo's son was kidnaped by the false Zorro. Five, Diego was deliberately sent to Santa Barbara to question Tomaso. Six, Tomaso set him up to meet the false Zorro. Seven, Hidalgo was right there to capture Diego with damning evidence of treason. Eight, Hidalgo was in on at least part of Santiago's plans. Nine, Don Alfredo was in Santa Barbara with his son, returned to him safe and sound. Ten, Santiago was here in Santa Barbara to oversee the whole thing. Try as he might, Diego still could not come up with any reason for Santiago to wish to frame him for such a criminal act as treason. It just did not make sense. He knew it did not make sense because he lacked information, but looking at the bars of his cell, he knew that unless Santiago let something out, there was no way to get any more information. Needing to voice his frustrations, he moved over to the bars separating him from Bernardo and, in low tones, recited everything to his faithful mozo. Sometimes when he could not make sense out of things, Bernardo would provide him with his insights.

Bernardo listened carefully to everything Diego had to say while being careful to watch for anyone looking their way. Since the sentries had disbursed the crowd, there was only Castillo, the guard, near them and he was not looking at them. In the middle of Diego's list, Bernardo motioned. "Yes, you are right, Bernardo. The imposter, the false Zorro, is most certainly a creation of Señor Santiago. He is using him as a weapon against the people, that is true, but he is specifically using him against me now. But still the question is why?" Bernardo could only shrug. Diego went back to his list and, as he was speaking, it finally came to Bernardo why Tomaso was such a mystery to him. When Diego was through, he made several motions to convey his thoughts. Diego watched.

"Tomaso?" A nod. "You saw him before?" Another nod. "Before you saw him here in Santa Barbara?" Yes. "Where?" Bernardo made the signs for Lozano's shop in Los Angeles. "You saw Tomaso in Los Angeles?" Yes. More signs. "He was in the shop at the same time as Señor Lozano and Señor Santiago?" Yes. More signs. "But he was not supposed to be in Los Angeles, he was supposed to be in Santa Barbara? Who said so?" Diego watched Bernardo. "Señor Santiago." Bernardo nodded. "When was this?" Signs for Don Alejandro. "Before my father's birthday? This was when the rumors of Zorro and his army were just beginning." Diego thought for a while. "Now I know why you are marked for death also, my friend. You saw Santiago and Tomaso together when you should not have. No one should know that Santiago has had dealings with Tomaso before the events here in Santa Barbara. Santiago does not like to leave loose ends. That is why he insisted I bring you here with me, so you would be caught up in the trap also." Bernardo nodded his head. "Well," said Diego. "At least one small part of the mystery is solved. The reason why you are here. Now if we could just come up with the reason why I am here, . . . ." He broke off as the door to Hidalgo's office opened.

Santiago and Hidalgo walked out of the office and over to the jail. Diego came to the bars at the front of his cell to meet them. Bernardo came as well, a vacant smile plastered on his face. Santiago glanced at Bernardo and promptly dismissed him. He turned his attention to de la Vega. Though Diego looked somewhat rumpled from having slept in his clothes, he nevertheless seemed to have a presence which felt totally out of place for his former assistant deputy. He seemed to be more than he was, even while totally helpless behind the bars of the jail. This puzzled Santiago for a moment, but then he set it aside. He had better things to focus upon.

"De la Vega," he said, "Capitán Hidalgo here tells me you have been enjoying the amenities of his jail. That pleases me greatly."

Deciding to play along, Diego said, "Capitán Hidalgo has been a gracious host, Your Excellency."

Santiago frowned. This was not how he had expected Diego to react. "I see," he said. Turning to the matter at hand, he said, "I suppose you noticed your neighbor, Don Alfredo, who left a while ago? He had a very interesting tale to tell Capitán Hidalgo."

"Oh?" said Diego. He was indeed very curious to find out what Don Alfredo had been doing, but he was not going to let Santiago manipulate him for his own amusement.

Santiago's eyes hardened. He was not enjoying this as much as he had thought he would. "Yes, he tells a tale of a young assistant deputy magistrado who was caught on a deserted street corner last night receiving money and instructions from a certain masked outlaw whom you know well."

Diego let only his eyebrows raise as a sign that he was interested. Inwardly, more things were falling into place.

"It seems the money you received from El Zorro was the ransom money which had been surrendered to the outlaw by Don Alfredo in order to have his son returned to him. He recognized the money bag as his and saw the outlaw place it into your hands. He heard Zorro instruct you to buy the weapons he needs for his armies. He saw and heard everything. He will make a splendid witness at your trial, de la Vega. An even better one than the good Capitán, here. No one will doubt the word of Don Alfredo Caldón, one of the heroes of the battle of Los Angeles against the Eagle."

Diego raised his chin. "Just why are you telling me this?" he asked. "You have already shown me I cannot protest my arrest or my future conviction without jeopardizing the life of my father. What more do you want from me?"

"I just wanted to show you the utter hopelessness of your situation," said Santiago, his dark eyes boring into Diego's. "Just in case you forget your place and wish to try something out of desperation. Capitán Hidalgo's testimony might somehow be discounted by a judge sympathetic to your father's influence. But even your father will not so easily dismiss the evidence given by one of his dearest friends who saw everything with his own eyes."

Diego had more faith in his father than that, but he could see Santiago's point quite well. If Diego did nothing to protest the charges against him, Don Alejandro might at last be persuaded that Diego was indeed guilty by the testimony of Don Alfredo. Don Alejandro was a very pragmatic man. Diego's silence against Don Alfredo's words would leave his father no choice. He shook his head to himself. Santiago was indeed very cunning and very thorough. He had Diego completely wrapped up and he knew it.

Again Santiago saw what he needed to see in Diego's eyes. The recognition of his helpless situation. He detected a subtle shift in Diego's posture which signaled that whatever unborn hopes the son had for the help that his father would give him just because he was the son of Alejandro de la Vega, were dying and would soon be dead. The extra something he had felt emanating from Diego when he first walked up to the jail had vanished to be replaced with something quite different. Quiet despair.

Satisfied, Santiago turned to Capitán Hidalgo. "Capitán. You will escort the prisoners to Los Angeles tomorrow, arriving before tomorrow night. They will be placed in the jail of the cuartel."

"Sí, Your Excellency," said Hidalgo.

Santiago continued, "I will be leaving this morning on the coach heading back to Los Angeles. I will be accompanying Don Alfredo and his son to make sure nothing happens to my witness. Also, I must take upon myself the sad duty to break the news to Alejandro de la Vega concerning his son's treasonous activities. It is a solemn duty I must perform, but I will break it to him as gently as possible. He is an old man and I must be sensitive to his age. I would not want him to go into shock and possibly injure his health now would I?" Santiago laughed, mostly to himself. Diego frowned, not understanding the laughter. Santiago saw this and said, "Do not trouble yourself, de la Vega. You do not need to understand my amusement. You only need to understand what you must do, or rather what you must not do. That is all." Diego nodded solemnly.

"Good," said Santiago. "I expect Judge Vasca to be in the pueblo by the end of the week. We can have your trial first thing Monday morning, Diego. You will not have long to wait to meet your fate. You may thank me for that later." Laughing again, Santiago said, "Come Capitán, I have not had my breakfast and I am famished. Join me for breakfast and then you can see me off to Los Angeles." With that, Santiago swept out of the garrison with Hidalgo at his side.

Diego watched Santiago's back. He had never in his life wished to dispatch any man by stabbing him in the back, but at this particular moment there was very little he could see wrong with the idea. You killed a snake anyway you could. Pressing his lips together, he tried to gather himself. He looked at Bernardo and saw the same dislike for Santiago mirrored there. Once again, Diego tasted the bitterness of betrayal which was still fresh in his heart. The man whose back now made such an inviting target had left his mark on Diego's heart as surely as if he had used his serpent sword to slash it and leave it in tatters. Diego was still the man he always was, but it was his hope for the future which had been betrayed. And it was his faith in a man whom he had believed followed the same tenets as he which had been betrayed. The pain of his faith's betrayal was what hurt the most.

Diego continued to stare at the front of the Inn of the Roses long after Santiago and Hidalgo had entered. Then he looked at the bars of the jail cell, feeling their unyielding strength beneath his hands. He sighed. He realized there was absolutely nothing to be done about their situation. Although a jail cell could not hold Zorro if he did not wish to be held, Diego knew it was useless to try and escape. His father's life was his to preserve and protect. If that meant remaining in this stinking cell and facing the hangman's noose, then so be it. Diego went and sat down on his bed. He was still so very tired from the last three days activities and his head still hurt from the blow of last night. He lay down and rested his forearm across his eyes. After a time, when his thoughts slowed down from their whirling around in his mind, he drifted to sleep.

With sympathy, Bernardo surmised the thoughts he knew must be running through Diego's mind judging by the mood his young master was in. He was glad when at last Diego fell asleep. Perhaps, he would have some respite from his inner turmoil. At least, Bernardo hoped that was true. Sighing, he looked around the garrison which had dropped into a complete lack of activity. Only the horses lazily swishing their tails provided some movement in the compound. Castillo, the guard, had moved several steps away from the cells to find a wall to lean on, just trying to stay awake himself. The silence stretched on. At last, Bernardo heard the sound of a coachman as he cracked the whip and yelled to his horses, sending them into a gallop. He saw the coach cross in front of the garrison gates as it started on its way to Los Angeles. In it, he could see two men and a little boy who leaned out of the window until his father pulled him back inside. Sadly, Bernardo waved once or twice at the small boy though Eduardo did not see him. He listened until he could no longer hear the sounds of the coach, then went and sat on his own bed. Hidalgo came into the garrison then and went in his office, giving the occupants of his jail no more than a glance. Castillo jumped to attention until Hidalgo went into his office. Then the guard slumped back against the wall just as he had been before. Bernardo was amused.

He sobered though, when he thought about what lay ahead for Diego and himself. Imprisonment. Humiliation. A trial. The gallows. Bernardo did not wish to die. He was more than willing to risk his life for Diego or Don Alejandro, or any one of the many people they knew. But he did not have a death wish. From the first, Zorro's fight for justice and right was also his fight. He would stand by Diego in this thing, just as he always had. But he still harbored a tiny spark of hope. He had seen both Diego and Zorro overcome odds which seemed overwhelming, to triumph over evil men and circumstances. Bernardo had lent a hand from time to time, but he knew Diego was indeed a special man, the like of which there had never been before. Santiago had backed Diego into a corner from which there seemed to be no way out. But if any man could find a way out of their predicament, Diego was that man. Bernardo had faith in his friend.

As there was no further activity in the garrison, and with nothing else to do to pass the time, Bernardo decided to stretch out on his bed. He propped his head up so that he could still see most of the garrison grounds and watch the open gates. He would keep watch while his young friend slept. He struggled to find a comfortable position on the hard bench, but found it impossible. So he just lay there, gazing out of the cell. The morning stretched on and despite his resolve to keep watch, his eyes slowly closed and he dropped off to sleep, joining his master.


	45. B2 Ch18: The Waking Nightmare

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **18 – The Waking Nightmare**

Don Alejandro spent the day working on the de la Vega rancho. He organized the vaqueros and sent them to move certain herds to new grazing grounds or to begin rounding up those cattle which were marked to be slaughtered for their hides and tallow. That process would begin in a few days. There were things to be done to prepare for the slaughter and Don Alejandro made sure everything would be ready. He and his vaqueros worked well together and he was certain his orders would be carried out according to his wishes, but he still liked to see these things for himself. However, in the back of his mind, he continually wondered how Don Alfredo was faring and whether he had found his son. He knew the Magistrado was well capable of handling the situation, but, as with the operations of his rancho, Don Alejandro would rather be there to see for himself. He sighed with his frustration. In the middle of the afternoon, he could no longer stand to remain at the rancho without knowing something, so he decided to ride into the pueblo to see if Sergeant Garcia had heard anything.

As he rode into the pueblo, he could see a large crowd was gathered in front of the inn. He saw that the overland coach had come in. Urging his horse to quicken its pace, he rode up to the edge of the crowd and dismounted. The people made way for him as he came through the crowd to find that the Magistrado had returned from Santa Barbara. Don Alfredo was with him. Don Alejandro broke into a smile when he saw little Eduardo standing next to Don Alfredo and holding onto his hand.

"Don Alfredo!" he cried out in excitement and reached out to embrace his friend. Then he leaned down and hugged Eduardo to him. "I am so glad to see you," he said to the boy. Eduardo smiled and shyly stepped a little behind his father's leg, embarrassed by all the attention. Don Alejandro petted the boy on the head fondly, then said, "How did you get him back, Don Alfredo? You must tell me all about it."

The Magistrado spoke up then. "Emm, Señor de la Vega. I would like to speak with you about that very subject." He looked around. "But not here. In private, if you please. Will you come with me to my office?" He held his hand out to indicate Don Alejandro should accompany him.

Don Alejandro was puzzled, but saw no reason not to go with the Magistrado. "Sí, Your Excellency," he said.

"Good," said Santiago. Turning to Don Alfredo, he said, "Señor, you will come as well." Don Alfredo bowed solemnly.

Something in Don Alfredo's face made Don Alejandro look at him closely. His stomach tightened perceptibly from some uneasiness which came over him. Don Alfredo did not have the look of someone who was overjoyed with the return of his son. Something else was going on. Don Alejandro looked at Santiago's face and saw the same look. Something was wrong. He looked about for his own son and did not see him in the crowd of onlookers. The tightness in his stomach became a fist. "Is it Diego, . . .?" he began.

Gently, Santiago said, "Not here, Señor de la Vega. Please. Come to my office." He began walking toward the building. Don Alejandro followed. His eyes met those of Don Alfredo's once again and he was fearful of what he saw there. Was Diego hurt? He swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat. Could he be . . . dead? No, Don Alejandro would not accept such a morbid thought. With another worried glance at the Magistrado's back, he increase his pace. Don Alfredo, with his son, fell in behind him and the four of them went up into the Magistrado's second floor office.

The crowd watched them go and many began to speculate as to the news the Magistrado had for the elder de la Vega. It was not long before they began to question the coachman as to what he knew. The coachman smiled, because he knew the news he had to tell would gain him many glasses of free wine if he played his cards right. He was not wrong, for it was only a minute or two before the innkeeper himself, invited him into the tavern for a glass of wine on the house. Graciously he accepted and they all went into the tavern.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

"Please be seated, Don Alejandro," said Santiago indicating one of the chairs before the desk. He walked to stand behind his desk and Don Alfredo came to stand beside it, facing Santiago and putting his arm protectively around Eduardo. Don Alejandro sat down and first looked up at Santiago, then Don Alfredo, and back again. Santiago took a deep breath and said, "Señor de la Vega, there is no easy way to break this to you, so I am just going to say it. Your son, Diego, is under arrest in Santa Barbara for conspiracy and treason."

"What?!" said Don Alejandro, half rising from his seat.

"I am afraid it is true, Don Alejandro," said Santiago, holding up his hand to stop Don Alejandro. "I would that it was not."

"But, . . .how? Why?" asked Don Alejandro, seeking answers. He sank back into his chair.

Santiago shook his head gently. "The why is still unknown, but the circumstances are these. Captian Hidalgo, commandanté for the garrison at Santa Barbara, came upon a late night meeting in the lower streets of the pueblo down near the wharves. The meeting was between the outlaw Zorro and your son Diego. The outlaw had given Diego a bag containing several thousand pesos along with some valuable jewelry. He also gave Diego a paper containing the instructions to use the money to purchase a great quantity of weapons to be turned over to Zorro. Capitán Hidalgo and his men captured Diego and confiscated these items which will be used in evidence at his trial. Unfortunately, Zorro escaped and is still at large. Capitán Hidalgo is continuing to scour the hills for him."

Don Alejandro leaned forward as he declared, "There must be some mistake." He rose to his son's defense even as his blood rose. "My son is many things, but he is not a traitor. He is a loyal subject of His Majesty. He would never be part of such a vile act against our government." Don Alejandro pounded his fist against his thigh to punctuate his remarks.

Inwardly, Santiago smiled at the elder de la Vega's vehemence. He was right in character, reacting just as Santiago knew he would. He said, "I am afraid there is no mistake, Don Alejandro. Capitán Hidalgo arrested Diego with these items in his hands. And I have a corroborating witness. Someone who saw the whole thing and heard Zorro tell Diego how to use the money."

"And just who is this witness?" said Don Alejandro, becoming more angry. "I want to speak to him." Santiago did not answer, but merely looked at Don Alfredo standing at the end of his desk. At first, Don Alejandro did not understand, but then he followed Santiago's gaze and looked at Don Alfredo. "You, Don Alfredo? You are the witness against my son?" he asked incredulously, afraid to hear the answer.

At first, Don Alfredo would not meet Don Alejandro's eyes. He kept his gaze fixed on the desk in front of him. He did not wish to say what had to be said. But he could only say the truth. When he looked at Don Alejandro, his misery was written across his face. "Sí, Don Alejandro. I saw and heard everything."

Don Alejandro searched his friend's face. What he saw there turned his blood cold.

Santiago watched closely. He saw the older man pale as the realization sank in. Now it was time to turn the knife in the wound. "Don Alfredo, in your own words, tell Don Alejandro everything you told me. He deserves to know everything, don't you agree?" Santiago kept his tone gentle. He was, after all, the caring Magistrado, a man with a heart for all the people. Don Alejandro gazed up at Don Alfredo, waiting expectantly. Like a moth drawn to the flame, he wanted to hear all of it.

Starting with the night he came home after hearing the news that his son, Eduardo, was stolen, Don Alfredo told him all of it. He spoke of the ransom note appearing just moments after Diego left that night in a place only Diego had been near. He told of counting out the ransom money and of his wife's jewelry. Of putting the ransom in a leather pouch. Of riding to Santa Barbara. He told how he put the money in the church and went to his room in the inn to wait. Then of the note telling him to go to a certain place to find his son. Seeing Zorro and Diego together. Hearing Diego receive instructions from Zorro to buy weapons. Seeing Diego being given a bag of money with which to buy them. Recognizing the money bag as his own. Knowing that it was horribly true that Diego was in league with the outlaw. Watching Capitán Hidalgo ride up and arrest Diego while his lancers gave chase after Zorro. Finding then his son, and taking him to safety. And finally, of finding the Magistrado at the inn.

When he was finished, there was complete silence in the room. Don Alejandro just stared straight ahead, saying nothing. Santiago was elated. He fancied he could see the cracks forming in the armor of the old man's heart right in front of him. He let the silence linger on for a few more minutes, then said, "You see, Don Alejandro. The charges are true. Diego was conspiring with the outlaw Zorro to supply weapons to his men somewhere in the hills. There is no other explanation. I am afraid it will be my sad duty to prosecute Diego in a court of law and seek his conviction upon those charges." He paused for effect and then said in a solemn tone, "Of course you know the penalty for treason against the King?" Don Alejandro looked up at him with horror dawning in his eyes. "Yes, Señor. It is the penalty of death."


	46. B2 Ch19: Resolutions

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **19 - _Resolutions_**

Don Alejandro descended the stairs leading down from the Magistrado's office and walked over to where his horse was tied near the inn. There were people gathered in knots here and there around the plaza, and one man hurried into the tavern to deliver the news that Alejandro de la Vega was coming. As he approached the tavern, Tío, the innkeeper and several other men came out to look at him. Don Alejandro did not have to ask. He could see in their faces and in their eyes that they knew. They all knew about the charges against Diego. Briefly, he wondered how, for he was sure Don Alfredo had said nothing. It was all his friend could do to be able to tell the story to Don Alejandro in the privacy of Santiago's office. Then he remembered the coach driver. Steeling himself and holding his face expressionless, Don Alejandro went straight to his horse and mounted. He kicked the animal hard and sent several people scattering to get out of the way as he rode out of the pueblo at a gallop. He did not see them. He was not sure he saw anything, for there was such a raging turmoil in his mind and heart. He rode home at a hard gallop all the way, as if he could flee the reality which was closing in on him for all that he knew it was futile.

When he reached the hacienda, he dismounted near the stables and threw the reins at Raul. Without saying a word, he went into the house through the kitchen. Crescencia was there cooking some food and looked up as he came in.

"Buenas tardes, Don Alejandro," she said with a warm smile. Don Alejandro said nothing, but walked straight on through the house and right into the library, slamming the door forcefully behind him. Crescencia ran to the kitchen door to stare after him and stood drying her hands on her apron as she looked down the hallway, a worried look on her face. She turned as she heard the back door open behind her and saw Raul looking in from outside. "Raul?" she said, going to him. "What is wrong with Don Alejandro?"

Raul said, "I do not know. He came in with his horse all lathered up and said not a word to me. He has been to the pueblo. He must have heard some bad news there."

"I wonder what it could be?" said Crescensia.

Raul could only shrug.

In the library, Don Alejandro paced back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back. His emotions were running too high for him to even think of sitting down. His mind was filled with the tale of Diego's arrest and the charges of treason. He recalled that Diego would not be brought to Los Angeles until the next day. But he wanted to confront Diego and ask him his side of the story now. There just had to be an explanation for what Don Alfredo and the commandanté of Santa Barbara had seen. There just had to be. No son of his would be involved with so base a crime as treason. He had entertained that thought once before when Diego asked to be set free so he could retrieve the list of fifty names which the Eagle had wanted in order to crush Don Alejandro's citizen's army. Don Alejandro had spent a bitter hour thinking that his son had turned coward and traitor in order to save his own life. It turned out he had actually been proud of Diego for the action he had taken so he could go and alert Don Alfredo and the other men to come to the pueblo for the final battle with Varga. No, Diego had not been a traitor then. And he was not one now.

But then there was the evidence. The ransom note. Diego meeting Zorro and receiving the ransom money. The arrest. Don Alfredo's witness. Don Alejandro stopped pacing and put his hand to his head as he tried to understand it all. He needed answers. Answers only Diego could give. Escorted by Capitán Hidalgo and his men, Diego would not be arriving in Los Angeles until late tomorrow, but Don Alejandro just could not find it within himself to wait that long. He was a man of action and he would wait no longer.

"All right, I will go," he said out loud. He would set out for Santa Barbara this very moment. He would not sleep tonight in any case. Going to the library door, he opened it and called for Juan. The old house servant had been talking with Crescensia and knew something was wrong. He came immediately to Don Alejandro.

"Sí, Patrón?" he said.

"Have Raul get me a fresh horse and have Crescensia prepare some food and water for my saddlebags. Hurry!" he ordered harshly.

Old Juan bowed and said, "Sí, Patrón! At once!" He scurried to obey Don Alejandro's orders. Whatever the problem was which troubled Don Alejandro, it must be very bad for him to act this way.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Evening had fallen and Santiago enjoyed the warmth of the fire in his sala almost as much as he enjoyed the warm feeling he had from his recent success. Diego de la Vega was safely in the garrison jail in Santa Barbara along with his deaf and mute servant. They would soon be brought to the jail in Los Angeles. There was now no other topic on the lips of the people as they talked about the conspiracy of Zorro and how young de la Vega had been caught up by it. Many of them were still gathered in little knots all around the plaza or were crowded into the tavern as they talked incessantly about the trial to come. This pleased Santiago greatly. _Let them talk and talk,_ he thought to himself. _The more they talk about the charges against de la Vega, the more fear they will instill in those around them._ And today, when at last Don Alejandro had left Santiago's office, the Magistrado knew the elder don was balanced precariously on the razor's edge, denying to himself that his only son could ever be involved in such a conspiracy and fearing in the depths of his heart that it was so. What Don Alejandro refused to admit to himself was that the sharp edge of the razor had already cut him deeply and his heart's blood was already beginning to flow. Don Alfredo's story was unshakable, and ultimately, as long as Diego did what he was told to do, the elder de la Vega would not long be able to deny the truth of the charges leveled against his son. Santiago poured himself a glass of wine. He laughed quietly as he raised his glass in silent toast to himself.

His pleasant thoughts were interrupted, however, by the soft sound of moaning which came from Gracilia's bedroom behind him. He turned to look in that direction and saw Pippa moving silently around the room as she tended to the needs of her mistress. Disgusted, Santiago turned back around and stared into the fire which had now lost most of its charm. For days after they had found her collapsed upon the floor by her bed, Gracilia had remained mostly unconscious, moaning and becoming agitated at times, saying things that were incoherent. The doses of laudanum seemed to have lost their calming effect for a few days. But lately, she just lay there upon her bed moaning to herself, responding little to Pippa's attempts to speak with her.

Gracilia was the one thing that poisoned his life. Everything else for which he had planned had been achieved or was coming to pass. Only his domestic life was in disarray as long as Gracilia remained. As he had repeated to himself over and over since coming to Los Angeles, within the deepest recesses of his mind, he thought, _If only she would have the decency to die._ He took a deep breath as he continued to stare into the fire. Not wanting to think about Gracilia any further, he returned his thoughts to de la Vega and the trial. Those were much more pleasant topics to reflect upon. His intimate smile returned. Judge Vasca would be arriving in four days to conduct the trial on the following Monday. Santiago already had his case against the conspirator prepared. Indeed, he'd had most of it prepared even before de la Vega's capture in Santa Barbara. It just required a bit of polishing here and there to match the actual happenings, a testament to his meticulous planning. He was also happy to reflect upon the elder de la Vega because he knew the old don was trying to come to grips with the fact that his son was a traitor to the very country and king which the old man held so dear. He knew though, that Don Alejandro was a strong man. He just might be able to stand up under the strain of everything until the trial. However, and here Santiago smiled again, if the old man's heart did not break before or during the trial, seeing Diego hang on the gallows would finish the task. Santiago was sure of it.

Thoughtfully, he stroked his beard in satisfaction and fingered the scar on his jaw. Yes, the plan he had set in motion when he had arrived in Los Angeles was coming to fruition. And when this was all over, he would have the de la Vega rancho to call his own and would be able to acquire, legally, lands from the other dons as they fled the supposed armies of Zorro hidden somewhere in the hills. And if some of them chose not to sell even at that? Well, he still had his Zorro, did he not? A weapon to be used against the dons who resisted the inevitable.

Then a thought struck Santiago that made him sit up in his chair. _His_ Zorro. Yes, . . . that was it! Santiago stole a sideways glance towards Gracilia's room as he wondered briefly if Pippa might be able to hear his thoughts. Amused at himself, he knew that of course, she couldn't. He turned back and leaned forward, facing the fire again as he swirled the wine within the his glass. He gazed into the ruby liquid as he gathered his thoughts. Yes, . . . it was all so simple. And it was another elegant piece of fabrication which he could weave into this whole affair. Ah, the sympathy it would gather to him as the people learned of the tragedy which was about to befall him. He knew just what he would do. He would have an ultimatum delivered to him by the notorious El Zorro in full view of the people, threatening to kill Gracilia if Diego de la Vega was not released immediately. Of course, the Magistrado was above releasing a criminal such as the traitor de la Vega just to protect himself or his family. He held his honor and his duty to the laws of the King in sacred trust. The trial would not be canceled. However, as the loving husband he was, he would decide to send Gracilia to Monterey before the trial to ensure her safety. With an escort of soldiers, she would be placed into the care of her uncle, the Governor, until the trial was over and young de la Vega was sentenced and hanged.

How very unfortunate it would be that Zorro was going to find out about the plans. Santiago shook his head sadly. It seemed that outlaw was going to attack the escort and kill Gracilia in retribution for not releasing the prisoner. Santiago glanced over his shoulder again before turning back to hide his smile. And he, the grieving husband, would shoulder his burden and bravely carry on, conducting the trial perfectly, under the sympathetic eyes of all. What a portrait of a tragically heroic man this would paint, further cementing his reputation among the people and with the Governor himself.

And he would be rid of Gracilia! This thought resounded through his mind as he contemplated the scenario over and over again. He shrugged his shoulders. After all, he would just be smoothing the way for the inevitable, he thought to himself. In her present state, though she was completely unaware of it, death had already claimed her. That she still breathed was merely an imitation of life. To Santiago, Gracilia was a supremely irritating annoyance, but one which Uresti would resolve nicely for him. Santiago smiled. He felt as if the burden of her miserable life was removed from him already. Uresti would do whatever he was told to do. As a matter of fact, it had been quite challenging to hold the man in check thus far. Santiago mused that at some point he might have to dispense with Uresti himself, the man being too dangerous a weapon to leave around. But for now, he had his use, which was to put fear into the hearts of all those who had looked upon Zorro as a hero. And now he would solve Santiago's most galling problem for him . . . in a most elegant way. Santiago leaned back against his chair and downed the rest of his wine in one swallow. Yes, he was soon to be free.

Freedom felt quite good.


	47. B2 Ch20: The Wedge Forged Between

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Cha** **pter 20 – _The Wedge Forged Between_**

In Santa Barbara, the sentry nearly fired off his musket by accident when he was startled by the intense pounding on the garrison gates. Opening the small door in the larger gate, he said, "Alto! Who goes there!" holding his musket at the ready. It was nearly three o'clock in the morning and he could not imagine who would be pounding on the gate at this hour.

"Open the gate!" ordered the older civilian with the white beard. "I must speak to the commandanté at once."

"Who are you?" asked the sentry. "What do you want?"

Not accustomed to this kind of treatment since the days of Monastario, Don Alejandro drew himself up and said, "I am Alejandro de la Vega, of Los Angeles. I must speak with the commandanté," he repeated.

"Wait here, Señor, and I will see if the commandanté will speak with you," said the sentry, closing the small door and bolting it again. He shook his head. What a madman this de la Vega must be for coming here at this hour, he thought. Then he snapped. De la Vega. The same last name as the prisoner. The sentry quickened his pace to the commandante's door and rapped loudly. There was no answer. He rapped loudly again and called out, "Capitán Hidalgo!"

From the other side of the door came a muffled, but angry response. "What do you want? Don't you know I am trying to sleep?"

"Capitán! I must speak with you!" called the sentry. He was dreading the capitán's temper, but this was important.

Across the way, Bernardo reached over through the bars and shook Diego's shoulder to awaken him. When Diego sat up, Bernardo pointed to Hidalgo's office where the sentry was waiting for the commandanté.

Hidalgo came to the door with only his pants pulled on over his long underwear. His hair was rumpled and hung down over his eyes. "All right!" he said harshly. "What is it?"

The sentry saluted and said, "Capitán. A Señor Alejandro de la Vega is at the gates demanding to see you."

Hidalgo's head snapped up. "Alejandro de la Vega here?" he said in surprise. "His Excellency did not mention this happening . . . ." Realizing he should say no more, Hidalgo tried to think. He was sure this was not part of Santiago's plan that Alejandro de la Vega should be here. "Is he alone?" he asked the sentry.

"Sí, Capitán. There is only the one man at the gates."

So, de la Vega's father had come alone. Hidalgo's eyes narrowed. He had no orders as to what to do about the father, so he would do nothing about him at all. He would deal with the man in the morning, not before. "Tell Señor de la Vega I will not see him in the middle of the night. Tell him to come back in the morning. Do not disturb me again." He slammed the door in the sentry's face.

The sentry turned and went to the gate and opened the small door again. "Señor. The commandanté says he will not see you in the middle of the night and says for you to come back in the morning."

"Now see here, . . . !" began Don Alejandro, but he was cut off as the sentry slammed the little door closed in his face. Incensed, Don Alejandro pounded on the gate again. There was no response. He pounded again. He stopped as the little door opened once more. "You must, . . . ." His voice died away as he saw that he was facing the business end of a musket through the opening.

From the other side of the gate, the sentry said, "Señor, you must go away or I will be forced to shoot. The commandanté has given his orders. Now, go." When Don Alejandro did not move, the sentry cocked his musket.

"All right, I am going," growled Don Alejandro. "But you may tell your commandanté I will be here first thing in the morning." The sentry did not answer, but pulled in his musket and slammed the little door closed again.

Back in their cells, Diego spoke softly to Bernardo. "That was my father at the gates." Bernardo nodded. "He has come to Santa Barbara to see about me," continued Diego. "I wonder if Señor Santiago knows he is here?" Bernardo shrugged and then made some signs. "Yes, it seems as though Capitán Hidalgo does not hold my father in the highest regard. I hope my father does nothing which will provoke Hidalgo to come up with a reason to put him in jail too." Bernardo made some signs to indicate that Diego's father was not known for keeping his temper. "Sí," sighed Diego ruefully. He thought for a while. "My father has found out or has been told about the charges against us. To be here at this late hour, he must have come here in haste and I would be willing to bet that our illustrious Magistrado does not know he is here. Perhaps, . . ." Diego paused as he thought. "Perhaps that gives us an advantage against the Magistrado, Bernardo. He has choreographed everything until now. But, if it is as I suspect, my father being here is outside of his carefully laid plans. If I can speak to Father, perhaps he can get word to the Governor from here concerning the false charges against us and do something to get us out of jail." Bernardo smiled. Then he nodded solemnly as Diego continued by saying, "It will be a long wait until morning."

It would indeed be a long wait, but for Diego it would be worth it to see his father once again. He was heartened by the nearness of Don Alejandro and the knowledge that he had come all this way to find him. He never doubted his father's love for him for a moment, even though they had their problems in the last almost two years. The fact of his being here was testament to that love. Too keyed up to sleep any longer, Diego spent the next hours organizing what he needed to say to his father so he could say it quickly. They might not have much time together and he might have to be very succinct. He also realized his father would have to arrange passage on a ship or fishing boat to make the trip to Monterey and back in time. Santiago had said his trial could be held on the coming Monday. This was early Tuesday morning. There was only a little over six days to make the trip. An impossible trip by horseback. Diego sighed. It might even be impossible by ship. But however impossible it might be, it could be their only chance.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

The morning broke bright and fair. Diego and Bernardo were already awake by the time the soldiers began making their appearance from the barracks. Both of them were waiting for Don Alejandro to come back to the garrison. And he would be back. Of that, there was no doubt.

Capitán Hidalgo came out of his quarters and looked around. He gave some orders to one of the soldiers and then turned his attention to the occupants of his jail. He stood with his hands on his hips, rightly surmising Diego had known it was his father at the gates last night. This was a very sticky problem for Hidalgo. If he did not handle it just right, the full weight of Santiago's disfavor would fall upon him. He scowled. His life was complicated enough without this problem rearing its head. He decided that keeping Don Alejandro from seeing his son would be the wrong thing to do, but he could make sure Diego de la Vega followed the Magistrado's instructions to the letter. He strode over to the jail where Diego was standing at the front of his cell, holding onto the bars.

"De la Vega," he said. "You will soon have a visitor." He glared at the prisoner. "You _will_ remember the Magistrado's words. The life of this visitor is in your hands. I will myself listen to every word spoken between you, and I promise you the Magistrado will have a complete report. Additionally, if I decide something is not to my liking, an unfortunate accident may befall your visitor before he can return to Los Angeles. Is that understood?"

Diego gripped the bars of his cell tightly and said, "Understood, Capitán." He clenched his jaws together. He had so hoped he would have had a few moments alone with his father. His plan was for Bernardo to distract the soldier guarding them while Diego told his father the truth of the whole matter and bade him to go to the Governor in Monterey. He knew that Hidalgo would see through that kind of ploy immediately and not be distracted. To attempt to do what he had planned would only lead to more problems . . . and possibly his father's death. He could not risk that.

"Good," said Hidalgo. He turned then and went back into his office, leaving Diego to stare after him.

Diego casually drifted over to the bars between his cell and that of Bernardo's. The mozo came and stood near. Diego crossed his arms and leaned against one of the bars, gazing out at the garrison yard. In a soft voice, Diego said, "We cannot go through with our plan." Bernardo nodded imperceptibly to show that he understood. "I will not risk the life of my father when there is such a direct threat. Capitán Hidalgo is quite capable of causing such an 'accident'. Of that I am sure." Bernardo nodded again. He held out his hands with the palms up. Diego shook his head. "I do not know, Bernardo. If my father does not go to Monterey with all haste, starting today, there is no way he could reach the Governor in time. Not and get back before the trial. It is today, now, or never." Diego contemplated Hidalgo's closed door for a time. "Capitán Hidalgo is not a Sergeant Garcia. If he were, our plan would have at least a slim chance of success. But, . . . " he shrugged. Seeing Bernardo's look at him, Diego said, "I just don't know what to do. I seem to be blocked no matter which way I turn. I must give Señor Santiago his due. He has done a masterful job in rendering us helpless to act against him. Our prospects are quite grim." Lost in his somber thoughts, Diego continued to lean against the bar as he stared at the floor of his cell.

Bernardo had nothing to offer his young friend in the way of solace. The loss of the one spark of hope they had when they had formulated their plan for Don Alejandro was a severe blow. It would seem that only a miracle of God could save them now. He closed his eyes and prayed fervently once again, not for himself so much, but for Diego and his father.

When the garrison gates were opened to allow the morning patrol to ride out, Don Alejandro was there. He stood aside as the patrol rode past him. Then he demanded to be allowed to speak to Capitán Hidalgo. As he stood waiting at the gate, he looked across the compound and saw Diego standing at the bars of his cell watching him. How vulnerable his son looked. Their eyes met and it was all Don Alejandro could do not to rush over and demand that his son be released. Knowing that action was not prudent, he constrained himself. But just barely.

He noticed there was a great deal of activity in the garrison as several horses were being saddled and a couple of horses were being harnessed to a field cart, the kind with high walls made of wooden rails. None of the soldiers gave him more than a cursory glance as they went about their business.

At last, the sentry returned and said, "Come with me, Señor."

Don Alejandro followed him into the garrison and saw Capitán Hidalgo waiting in front of the office. He sized up the capitán and knew he would still have a difficult time with the man. The scowl on the capitan's face assured him of that. But he, too, could be difficult. "Capitán Hidalgo," he acknowledged.

"Señor de la Vega," said Hidalgo with a small bow. "How may I help you?"

"I have come to see my son, Diego," said Don Alejandro. "I must speak with him."

"Señor de la Vega," said Hidalgo. "I am a very busy man. We will be escorting the prisoners to Los Angeles within the hour and I have many preparations to make. Your presence here is causing a delay."

"Capitán, I have ridden all night to get here in order to see my son. You cannot deny me the right to speak with him," said Don Alejandro, not backing down.

Pointing to the jail, Hidalgo said, "These men are not charged with some petty crime, Señor. They are charged with treason against His Majesty, the King. I will decide if and when you may speak to the prisoner, . . . unless you have authorization from the Magistrado?" He waited.

"No, I do not have authorization from the Magistrado," said Don Alejandro. "He does not know I am here. I came, . . . I came . . . because Diego is my son." Softening, Don Alejandro said, "Please. I ask you. Let me speak to Diego."

Hidalgo was not in the mood to quibble with the older man any longer. Let him talk to the prisoner and then send him on his way. "All right, Señor de la Vega. I will let you speak with him, but for five minutes only. This way." He walked over to the jail.

Don Alejandro was of a mind to protest the short visitation time, but decided it would probably do him no good. He forgot that as he approached the jail.

"Father," said Diego reaching out through the bars to take Don Alejandro's hands.

"Diego, my son," said Don Alejandro, clasping Diego's hands. He noticed Bernardo in the next cell and nodded to the servant. Bernardo smiled back at him. Letting go of Diego's hands, he said, "Diego. Tell me. What is this all about? The Magistrado told me you are charged with conspiring with the outlaw Zorro to overthrow the government. I know this cannot be true. There has been some terrible mistake."

Diego knew that his father was seeking some confirmation from him of this "terrible mistake". He glanced over to where Capitán Hidalgo was standing nearby. Hidalgo's eyes were riveted on him. He saw the implied threat in those eyes. He looked back at his father. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His shoulders dropped a little and he could not meet his father's eyes.

Don Alejandro stared at him. "Well?" He was losing his patience.

Diego took a deep breath and let it out. Drawing himself up, he said clearly, "Father, all I can say is that I am innocent of the charges against me." This was as much as he dared to say to his father and even this might be too much. He felt, rather than saw, Hidalgo's eyes narrow. Diego's eyes never left his father's.

Don Alejandro was not satisfied. "But what of your meeting with Zorro? Of taking money from him? Surely there is an explanation for these happenings?" Diego noticed that Don Alejandro did not ask him to deny that these things had happened.

Hidalgo broke in then. "Sí, Señor de la Vega. There is an explanation." Pointing to Diego, he said, "I was there. I captured the prisoner with the evidence in his hands: the money and the written instructions given to him by Zorro. These prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that the prisoner is a traitor. There is no other explanation."

"I cannot believe that," said Don Alejandro gruffly. Turning back to Diego, he said, "Come on, son. You can tell me. I must know."

Diego could see the pleading look in his father's eyes. He wanted to believe his son was innocent. All he needed was for Diego to give him some rational explanation for what had happened. This was the one thing Diego could not give to him. Not now. Not with Capitán Hidalgo listening to his every word. "Father," he began and was forced to stop. Pressing his lips together, he said, "I can only say that I am innocent." The look he received from his father nearly broke his heart. Diego could see Don Alejandro was starting to concede to the truth of the charges against him despite his father's overwhelming desire to believe in his son. His father was slipping away from him and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Diego. You will tell me what I need to know. Now!" thundered Don Alejandro, as if by his outcry he could ward off that which he could not accept.

Diego swallowed before speaking. Softly, sadly, he said, "I have said all that I can, Father, . . . I have said all that I can . . . ."

Don Alejandro clenched his fists together. What was the matter with Diego? He had ridden all this way to hear from his son's own lips what had happened in order to set things straight. He had expected to hear something, anything from Diego which would give him a place to start. But he had gotten nothing. As he looked at Diego, standing behind the bars of the jail, unkempt, with two days growth of beard, he realized again just how little he knew this son of his. What did he know of his son's personal affairs since his return from Spain? Not very much. He knew even less since Diego had begun working with the Magistrado. Why would Diego not tell him the truth of what had happened here in Santa Barbara? Was it, perhaps, there was no other truth? Don Alejandro swayed with the bitterness of that thought. He put his hand to his forehead.

"Father? Are you all right?" asked Diego, very concerned. His father had gone very silent and then had suddenly turned so very pale.

Nodding, because he could not speak, Don Alejandro indicated he was all right. With one last effort, through a throat constricted with grief, Don Alejandro asked again. "Diego?" He held out his hands in supplication.

Diego could only shake his head slowly, denying Don Alejandro that which he wanted so desperately.

Anger soaring, Don Alejandro said the first thing that came to his mind. "All right then! I don't care. Stay in jail. I gave you your chance." To Hidalgo, he said, "Capitán, I am returning to my hacienda this very instant. Con permisso?"

Hidalgo gave a little bow and said, with a sideways look at Diego, "Sí, Señor de la Vega. I will escort you to the gates."

Without a backward glance, Don Alejandro stalked out of the garrison, anger evident in his every step. He mounted the horse he had tied to the post outside and sent the animal flying away from the garrison, heading south toward Los Angeles. Capitán Hidalgo brushed the dust from the sleeves of his jacket and walked back to the jail.

Looking at his prisoner with a grim smile, he said, "It is well, de la Vega. You just continue to say nothing and your father will continue living." He motioned to the guard. "Give them food and water right away. We will be leaving soon."

"Sí, mi Capitán!" said the guard, as he went to comply. Hidalgo walked off without another word to Diego and went into his office. The guard quickly brought the food and water to the prisoners, then took up his post again.

Sitting on his bed, Diego ignored the food. He was not hungry. All he could think about was how much his father was hurting. He stared into nothingness as he silently seethed in his anger at the Magistrado for orchestrating this whole thing. Somehow, someway, he was going to find out why this thing had been done to them. Even if he should die by the hangman's noose, his father would know his son was not a traitor. Even if he had to return from beyond the grave to prove it.

Bernardo did not have much of an appetite either. He picked at his food, then set his plate aside. He had watched the whole affair from his cell and his heart was sickened by it. The distance between Diego and his father caused by the secret of Zorro had been hard enough for the two of them to bear. But this far exceeded that schism. Don Alejandro had been disappointed in his son, but still knew that Diego had his own integrity, his own sense of honor. But this plot, with its charges of treason and of conspiracy with the false Zorro, undermined any bit of faith which Don Alejandro had in his son. Diego was prepared to sacrifice his life so that his father might live, but the true price of Don Alejandro's life would be his love for his son. With that destroyed, he might live, but would he be alive? Bernardo knew that Don Alejandro's love for Diego ran deep. Without it, having lost a wife whom he loved even more, Don Alejandro would be just a shell of a man, an empty husk. Diego was the only thing which gave his life any meaning.

Sighing, he looked around the garrison. The soldiers were gathering around the saddled horses and Capitán Hidalgo was pulling on his gloves as he left his office. Bernardo knew they would be leaving very soon. Diego had not moved. Bernardo could see silent grief etched into every line of Diego's shoulders. _Would that I was Zorro,_ Bernardo thought to himself. He would risk everything to rescue Diego and set things to rights. He would confront Santiago and soon put him to the sword. In his mind's eye, he could see himself delivering the coup de grace as he defeated Santiago. This was a very pleasing thought and Bernardo even managed the briefest of smiles in its honor. Then he returned to reality and knew he was just as helpless as Diego. But it was a nice dream for all that.


	48. B2 Ch21: The Return to Los Angeles

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **21 – _The Return to Los Angeles_**

Santiago stood on the balcony in front of his office. Leaning on the railing, he looked out over the plaza and noted with pleasure the greater number of people gathered there than was customary. He did not have to wonder why. After all, he was the cause of it. He smiled. Word had gotten around that Diego de la Vega, accused traitor, was due to arrive in the pueblo at any time. Friends of the family, the curious, and even the fearful were gathered to witness the event. Many were still shocked by the idea that Diego could be charged with such a crime and they even went so far as to deny his guilt on such charges. However, those voices seemed to be few and far between. Most of those with whom Lozano had spoken were afraid the charges might be true and whispered among themselves at the various oddities in the younger de la Vega's life which set him apart from most men of his age and class. They spoke of his odd penchant for being involved in one way or another in a great many of the goings on in the pueblo even though he claimed to be interested only in his books and music. Lozano reported that he even heard people speculating as to why Diego had recently been gone so often and why he was sometimes late when returning from his assignments. They thought he must have been meeting with Zorro. Santiago laughed when he heard this. Everything was going just as he planned it.

At the moment, Lozano was posted a mile out of the pueblo watching for Hidalgo and his prisoners. When he rode into the plaza, Santiago would have his signal that they were near. In the meantime, Uresti was to have moved back to his camp in the hills just above Los Angeles until he was needed. Santiago would send Lozano out to deliver a message to him. He wanted no mistakes. Gracilia's death was an addition to his careful plans and he wanted to make absolutely sure Uresti understood what he wanted. His attention was drawn to the plaza as Lozano rode in at a leisurely pace. The merchant tipped his hat to Santiago as he continued on to his shop, where he dismounted.

It was time. Santiago settled his hat securely on his head, tugged at his coat and adjusted his sword. Then he headed down the stairs and out into the plaza. By the time he had reached the well in the middle of the plaza, he saw he was the center of attention. Everyone had turned to look at him, and some were pointing as they talked among themselves. Conscious of this, Santiago squared his shoulders and walked purposefully to the cuartel. As he entered the gates, he knew the people had gathered in his wake, curious to know what he was going to do. This was good.

"Sergeant Garcia," he called out to the portly officer. "Is everything ready?"

"Oh, sí, Your Excellency," said Garcia, saluting. "Everything is exactly as you ordered it."

"Good," said Santiago, eyeing the cells which had been freshly scrubbed and provided with new mattress pads for the beds. He was going to prosecute the prisoners, it was true, but again he wished to demonstrate what an honorable man he was. The prisoners would have the best accommodations the pueblo could boast. He knew well that the best form of deception was in the details. Details, always details. And speaking of details, he noticed Garcia seemed unhappy. "What is the problem, Sergeant?" he asked.

Garcia hesitated before he answered, as if unsure of just what he wanted to say. "Magistrado," he began. "I just cannot understand why Don Diego would do such a thing. I would never have believed it. And now I must have him in my jail and then the trial and then . . . ." He trailed off as he shook his head. "He has been a good friend to me. I just cannot believe it."

Santiago said, "Sergeant, I can appreciate your problem. But as a soldier of the King you will do your duty, no? Even as I must do my duty and prosecute a man who was my very own assistant, you will do your duty and imprison him in your jail. And if it should come to it, you will be required to carry out his execution."

Garcia clasped his hands in front of him and tried not to wring them. He swallowed. "Execution?" he managed to get out.

"Sí, Sergeant, the penalty for treason is death," said Santiago. "If Diego is convicted of treason, he will hang."

"And I will have to . . . ." Here Garcia made a motion around his neck and then pulled up on an imaginary rope to simulate hanging.

"Yes, Sergeant," said Santiago in a solemn tone.

Garcia clapped a hand over his mouth as he digested this. After a moment, he lowered it. "Could not Capitán Hidalgo carry out the sentence?" inquired Garcia in a small voice. He was looking for anyway out of the situation. "He will be here for the trial. He outranks me and . . . ."

"No, Sergeant Garcia," said Santiago. "You are the acting commandanté for this post and it is your duty to carry out any sentence handed down by the court. Capitán Hidalgo will return to Santa Barbara at the earliest moment he is not needed here. I am sure you understand, Sergeant," he continued. "We all have our duty to the King. Yours is to follow orders. If you do not do so, you yourself will be accused of insubordination at the least and possibly with treason just like young de la Vega. You don't want that do you?"

"Oh, no, Your Excellency," stammered Garcia. "I am a loyal officer in the army of the King!"

"I know that, Sergeant," said Santiago with confidence. "I know I can depend upon you to carry out the lawful orders of the court. I just wanted to make sure you understand what may be required of you. In order to see that justice is served, we ourselves must do things we would rather not do. And we do them out of loyalty to the laws of the King and because it is the right thing to do. Do you not agree?"

Sergeant Garcia nodded sadly. "Sí, Your Excellency."

"Good," said Santiago. "Now go and get your lancers assembled. Capitán Hidalgo will be arriving at any moment and I want your lancers to control the crowds which are gathering in the plaza. The prisoners must be protected until the trial. I want nothing to happen to them. Their safety is your responsibility. Understood?"

Garcia saluted, and said, "Sí, Your Excellency." He turned and began ordering his men to assemble near the cuartel gates. He was no more happy about what he had to do than he was before, but he was determined to do his duty as a loyal officer in the King's army. He had the example of the Magistrado to follow. If he could do what he must do, then Garcia could do what he was ordered to do. After all, he was merely obeying orders given by someone else. He thought about the Magistrado and was glad he served under such a man. In the old days, Capitán Monastario would have kicked him in the rear and told him to get on with his job. But Señor Santiago always took the time to explain things to him and speak to him as if he were not stupid. That was what made him such a great Magistrado.

His attention was drawn outside the cuartel, as the crowd, which had gathered near the gates, surged away towards something he could not see. He walked over and looked out of the gates in time to see the cart holding Diego de la Vega and his servant enter the plaza accompanied by the escort of soldiers from Santa Barbara. The man he took to be Capitán Hidalgo was riding at the head of the little procession. He looked then at Don Diego and his mozo. The prisoners were standing up in the field cart, holding onto the waist high railings as the cart bumped along the roadway. Sergeant Garcia was shocked that his friend should be treated in this manner. He was, after all, a member of the upper class and deserved better than this. He gave Hidalgo a disapproving look. Garcia was also somewhat shocked at Diego's rough appearance. It was clear Diego had not shaved in several days and his clothes were dusty and wrinkled. This was not at all like the Don Diego he knew. He was always fresh and clean shaven. Garcia shook his head sadly. But right now he had a job to do. He could see that the people were starting to crowd around the cart as they tried to get close to the prisoners. "Lancers!" he called out. "Follow me!" In a running trot, he led his men across the plaza and ordered them to hold the people back. Despite his feelings about the man, he nevertheless saluted Capitán Hidalgo, who returned the gesture and continued toward the cuartel where the Magistrado was waiting just within the gates.

Diego looked down upon the faces of the people as they began to crowd around the cart carrying both Bernardo and himself. He saw many familiar faces in the crowd. Tío, the innkeeper and his barmaid, Maria. Don Carlos and Don Tomas and some others standing back from the crowd a pace, looking very solemn. Franco Barbarosa and his daughter. Eugenio, the blacksmith's son and little Paco. There were peons, Indians and vaqueros. Most of the merchants had come out of their shops to join those gathered around him. People from all walks of life were gathered here to see Deigo de la Vega, accused traitor, delivered to the jail in the cuartel. But of his father, there was no sign. This was not totally unexpected, but it was disappointing. Right now, however, he would not acknowledge his feelings on that subject. He sized up the mood of the people who were here. Those in Santa Barbara had been frightened and angry. The citizens living there had, thus far, suffered the most under the depredations of the false Zorro. They were ready to see anyone connected with the outlaw brought to justice. Here in Los Angeles, he saw some friendly faces, but he also saw the questions in their eyes. Many were here just out of curiosity, but there were some who had already made up their minds about the two prisoners; the dour expression on the face of Don Carlos, for example.

At the moment, Diego felt curiously detached. It might be supposed that he would at least be ashamed or embarrassed by being brought in chains to the pueblo in the back of a field cart, but for now at least, it did not seem to touch him. During the long ride into the pueblo from Santa Barbara, he had exhausted his ability to feel much of anything. There were only so many times one could berate one's self for falling into the Magistrado's trap and worry one's self about the consequences. He had even exhausted his emotions concerning his inability to explain himself to his father without endangering the elder de la Vega's life. The faint sadness he felt at his father's absence from the pueblo was bittersweet. At least Don Alejandro would not have to witness his son being brought to jail in this manner. Diego rode along with his head up, meeting the eyes of those around him. Bernardo had been watching him and he followed Diego's example. They would gather all the dignity they had to themselves and not let Santiago see them defeated. As a matter of fact, Diego smiled at Sergeant Garcia who was pacing alongside the cart as it pulled into the cuartel and came to a halt near the jail.

"Sergeant!" he said. "It is good to see you again." When all else was in doubt, Diego could still fall back upon the persona he had developed upon his return from Spain. This was the Diego everyone still expected to see and he had an idea that it would perplex Santiago to see him acting this way. It was the persona he had been trying so hard to leave behind, but since he could not take Santiago head on, he could try and keep him puzzled. It might be the only form of satisfaction he would carry to his grave.

He found he could be somewhat amused when he heard Sergeant Garcia say with a smile, "It is good to see you too, Don Diego! What I mean is, . . . ." Garcia paused and looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Thank you for this splendid reception," said Diego referring to the soldiers and the crowds.

"Graciás, Don Diego," said Garcia, beaming as if it were all his own idea. Then he frowned as he became confused by Diego's words. "But Don Diego, . . . ." he trailed off.

He was rescued as Santiago walked over. "Sergeant. Please do not stand here making conversation with our prisoners. See that they are taken to their cells immediately."

Diego kept a pleasant look on his face and was satisfied to see the Magistrado peering up at him curiously.

"Sí, Magistrado," said Garcia saluting. He gestured at two of the lancers who took down the rails at the end of the cart and set them aside. "Don Diego, if you please?" Garcia said as he indicated the cells.

Diego walked to the back of the cart and took the long step down to the ground. He walked past Santiago and took up his position in the cell assigned to him, turning to face the Magistrado and the soldiers. He held out his handcuffed hands and waited expectantly.

Never taking his eyes from Diego's, Santiago said, "Sergeant, you may get the keys from Capitán Hidalgo and remove the handcuffs." It was clear to Diego that the Magistrado was trying to assess the attitude of his prisoner and something was not adding up. Diego held his eyes and let a small smile find its way to his face. He was satisfied to see Santiago's eyes narrow.

Sergeant Garcia came back with the keys and said, "Don Diego?"

Diego held out his hands again and Garcia removed the cuffs. Diego rubbed his wrists appreciatively, but he continued to look at Santiago. "Thank you, Sergeant," he said.

Unsettled, but not knowing exactly why, Santiago decided it was time to move on. Turning to Garcia, he said, "Sergeant, you may put the servant in the other cell immediately. Post a guard. Then you will see to the billeting of the men who came with Capitán Hidalgo. Once that is done, you will report to me in my office."

"Sí, Your Excellency," Garcia acknowledged. He closed the door to Diego's cell and locked it. As Santiago walked over to where Capitán Hidalgo was waiting, Garcia walked around to the cart to speak to Bernardo. "Come down, Little One," he said, gesturing. Bernardo looked uncertain. "I want you to come down here and get into your nice, clean cell," Garcia said, trying to be nice. Bernardo looked puzzled and pointed to himself. Garcia nodded his head with exaggeration. "Yes, I am talking to you, Little One. Come down." He was becoming a little frustrated. "Come down!" he shouted impatiently. Bernardo shrank back in fear. Garcia sighed. Never had he been able to communicate with Don Diego's servant. He looked over at Diego for help. "Please, Don Diego. Could you help me? I need the little one to get into his cell." Bernardo looked from one man to the other.

"Of course, Sergeant," said Diego, smiling with appreciation for Bernardo's antics so his faithful mozo could see. From the doorway of his cell, he began making motions with his hands and soon Bernardo nodded. The servant went to the back of the cart and climbed down, walking directly into his cell. He turned around and held his hands out just as Diego had done, waiting expectantly.

Garcia just shook his head. He went and unlocked Bernardo's handcuffs and locked the cell door after he had stepped out. For the life of him, he would never understand how Don Diego made Bernardo understand. It was almost like magic.

If Bernardo had not been under the scrutiny of Santiago and Hidalgo, he would have taken the chance of looking at Diego to share his own amusement at the sergeant. But he schooled himself to play his part and kept his face carefully neutral.

Giving Bernardo one more glance, Sergeant Garcia turned to Diego. "If you will excuse me, Don Diego?" he said politely. "I have some things I must do now."

"Of course, Sergeant," Diego returned pleasantly. "Oh, I do wish to compliment you upon the condition of your jail. It is much nicer than the one in Santa Barbara. And I see you have replaced the mattress. That was very kind of you."

Sergeant Garcia smiled hugely. He so enjoyed getting compliments of any kind. "You are very welcome, Don Diego," he said. "But, it was the Magistrado's idea. He is very concerned that you should be treated well."

"He is?" said Diego, looking in Santiago's direction. Knowing the Magistrado had been listening, Diego bowed in acknowledgment to Santiago. He was rewarded by seeing Santiago and Hidalgo exchange looks. It was a small thing, but even small things were victories at this point.

"Sí, Don Diego, he is," said Garcia. "But now I must go." He walked away, calling all of Hidalgo's soldiers to come with him. Before he went into the barracks, he ordered Corporal Reyes to stand guard over the prisoners. Sighing, Reyes shouldered his musket and took up his post near the jail.

Santiago said, "Capitán Hidalgo, please come with me to my office." With one last look at the prisoners, he turned and walked out of the cuartel followed closely by Hidalgo. They had to make their way between the people still being held back by the lancers. Santiago was happy for them to be there. The more they looked, the more they would talk. Lozano would soon be going about spreading his stories of what had happened in Santa Barbara and stirring the people against Diego. The two of them soon made their way across the plaza and up into Santiago's office.

"May I offer you some wine, Capitán?" said Santiago as he removed his hat and tossed it on the desk.

"Sí, Graciás," said Hidalgo, also removing his hat and tucking his gloves into his belt. Santiago poured the wine and Hidalgo held up his glass in a toast. "To success," he said.

"Success," returned Santiago, as both men took a drink. Then he said, "Your trip from Santa Barbara was uneventful, I take it?"

"Oh, sí," said Hidalgo, enjoying the wine. "The prisoners gave us no problem. We had only to deal with Papa de la Vega for a few moments before setting out for Los Angeles."

"Papa de la Vega?" said Santiago somewhat startled. "He came to Santa Barbara? When?"

Hidalgo said, "He rode in sometime in the middle of the night and demanded to see his son. I made him wait until this morning." Seeing Santiago's look, he shrugged and said, "I was trying to sleep, Your Excellency. I had no orders from you concerning such a visit, so I told him to wait until morning."

"I should have guessed that he might do something like that," mused Santiago, sipping his wine. "He is very protective of Diego, just as I knew he would be. It is completely in character for him to charge off to Santa Barbara wanting to speak to his son in person. How did you handle it?"

"Señor de la Vega came to the garrison this morning and I allowed him to speak with his son." Hidalgo saw Santiago tense. Hidalgo continued, " _After_ I had a word with the cub." He smiled as he saw Santiago relax. "Sí, I warned your former assistant deputy not to say anything I did not like, or his father might have an unfortunate accident before he could return home." Santiago nodded as Hidalgo continued. "Though the father pressed him hard, wanting to know the truth of the charges against him, young de la Vega revealed nothing. It seems the son will not do anything which will endanger his father and this was the proof. Young de la Vega was very upset at being forced into silence, but he had the good sense to follow orders. I was there the whole time and heard everything."

"And what was the father's reaction?" asked Santiago.

"Oh, he was angry, Your Excellency," said, Hidalgo with a smile. "He could not understand why his cub would say nothing. I think he begins to accept that the charges against his son may indeed be true." Chuckling, Hidalgo took another drink of wine. "He became angry and stormed out of the garrison. He got on his horse and rode hard along the road to Los Angeles. All he left behind was a cloud of dust." Hidalgo shrugged. "Then we loaded the prisoners in the cart and came here just as you ordered."

Santiago nodded and said, "Very good, Capitán. You handled the situation well." The wound in the elder de la Vega's heart was festering. This was to his purpose. He thoughtfully swirled the wine in his glass.

Hidalgo bowed to acknowledge the compliment given him. Then he noticed Santiago seemed preoccupied. "Is there something wrong, Magistrado?" he asked.

Santiago wrinkled his brow. He did not wish to acknowledge he was not in complete control of everything, but he was disturbed enough to air his doubts in front of Hidalgo. "I am not sure, Capitán. Everything is falling within my plans, but still there is something which troubles me, something I cannot put my finger upon." He paused thoughtfully. "I just do not know what that something is."

"Humph, it is probably that young de la Vega," said Hidalgo, taking another drink of his wine. "He almost seemed to be enjoying his accommodations in the jail. If you ask me, you are being too easy on him, Excellency. A man accused of treason does not need such luxury."

Santiago looked at Hidalgo. "You have put your finger on it, Capitán. De la Vega's reaction to his imprisonment has evolved since you put him in your jail in Santa Barbara. He does not react like a man who is going to die anytime soon." Santiago put down his glass and paced a few steps back and forth. Then he stopped. "From now on until the hanging, I want one of your special men to be on guard at the jail. Fuentes or Castillo. They are to report to me everything that goes on inside of that cuartel, whether it involves the prisoners or not." Hidalgo nodded. "We are too close to seeing de la Vega convicted in the trial to let the smallest thing slip by us. I do not know what, if anything, is going on with young de la Vega, but vigilance and attention to details will assure me of victory."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Hidalgo.

There was a knock at the door. "Come in," said Santiago.

The door opened and Sergeant Garcia came in. He saluted and said, "Sergeant Garcia reporting as ordered sir!"

"Very well, Sergeant, at ease." Garcia relaxed. Santiago continued. "Sergeant, I have new orders for you. You will give your quarters to Capitán Hidalgo until after the trial." Garcia looked at Hidalgo. "You will move your things into the barracks."

Garcia was not surprised at this turn of events. It was customary to give way to the ranking officer present. "Sí, Your Excellency," he said.

Santiago continued. "Sergeant, I am temporarily giving command of the cuartel to Capitán Hidalgo while he is here. I know you were the acting commandanté, but I feel this is for the best."

Garcia was disappointed and swallowed before he said, "Sí, Your Excellency."

"Good," said Santiago. "You will follow his orders as if they were my own. Capitán Hidalgo will see to the duty rosters and the posting of sentries and guards for the prisoners. He will also use his men, as well as yours, in order to patrol the area and keep order in the pueblo. We cannot be too careful. Who knows how Zorro might retaliate now that we have one of his operatives in our jail."

"Zorro retaliate?" said Garcia, scratching at his temple in a puzzled manner. "What is retaliate, Your Excellency?"

"Retaliate means that he might hope to stop the trial of Diego perhaps by burning some houses, robbing, or even possibly killing someone," said Santiago, as he gaged Garcia's reaction. "He could do such things hoping to scare us into setting young de la Vega free." Garcia clapped his hands over his heart as if to protect himself. Santiago continued, "I think it is possible he might even be bold enough to try an attack on the pueblo in order to get us to release Diego de la Vega. Who knows what he might try?"

Garcia shook his head sadly. "And Zorro used to be such a nice bandido," he said.

"Well, he is not a "nice bandido" now," said Santiago, forcefully. "He is a would-be usurper just like the Eagle, perhaps even worse." Garcia's eyes widened. "But just as we found one of his men working undercover, like Diego de la Vega, we will find the others, Sergeant. I have experience doing just this kind of work in Monterey and San Francisco. I promise you that one day we will have Zorro himself in your jail awaiting his appointment with the hangman's noose. Justice will be served."

Garcia drew himself up to attention. "Sí, Magistrado," he said. After all, who could not agree with the cause of justice?

"All right, Sergeant, you may go now," said Santiago dismissing him.

Garcia saluted and said, "Sí, Your Excellency." Then he left the office. He sighed to himself as he walked across the plaza. He'd had to give up his title of acting commandanté before and he was always saddened by it. The chance to be even an acting commandanté was a rare one and he could never be sure the title would be his again. But this time, as he thought about it, he would not be the one responsible for anything which went wrong. Not with Capitán Hidalgo in command. And it might let him off of the hook if a certain . . . hanging . . . was to take place. Capitán Hidalgo would have to be in charge of that also. That thought was much more pleasing, and he found he could accept his demotion in a much better humor after all.


	49. B2 Ch22: Desires

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **22 – _Desires_**

Diego and Bernardo were beginning to become somewhat accustomed to being the objects of curiosity whenever the cuartel gates were open. As the days passed, people in the plaza would stop to point and talk as they looked at the son of the most prominent landholder in the district being held in the jail. Bernardo made the comment, when no one was looking, that it seemed the general tone of the people at the gate was growing darker. Diego had to agree. The faces and gestures of the people who watched them were beginning to mirror those of the people of Santa Barbara. There was absolutely nothing they could do about it, however. They could only endure as well as they could until the trial. Daily they prayed for their miracle, but so far, it seemed, the heavens had chosen not to hear.

They were well treated as prisoners go. Hidalgo followed the Magistrado's orders precisely, though he still held the opinion that the prisoners were being coddled. They received three meals a day and were given the items needed to shave and clean up. Diego asked for and received a book to read, a pen and some paper with which to write some poetry, and a guitar. Unfortunately, the book he was given was the one left from the time of Monastario and Diego had already passed judgement upon its contents once before. He gave it to Bernardo who had much the same opinion after he tried to read some of it. Diego made a few attempts to write some poetry, but really was not in the mood, so he set the paper aside. He spent a great deal of his time playing the guitar, which turned out to be in fairly good condition. It helped to pass the time and the music he chose gave both of them some comfort. Still, there were times when Diego would stare out into the plaza in silence, longing to see the one whom he secretly feared would not come. The crowds of people would come and go, and Diego had seen almost everyone he knew at one time or another, but the one face he longed to see did not appear. This left him saddened more than he could say.

However, as part of his efforts to leave Santiago wondering, Diego always seemed to be content with his surroundings whenever the Magistrado came to visit the cuartel. He was inwardly satisfied to see the Magistrado give him strange looks as Diego refused to act like a man who was already sentenced to death. He could not strike a physical blow on his behalf, but he could smile and carry on with his persona of Diego de la Vega, scholar and poet, which left the Magistrado unsettled. Santiago never said anything about it, but Diego could see his actions were worrying the Magistrado because he could not understand them. Santiago thought he knew Diego so well, did he? Well, Diego was going to show him he did not. He rather enjoyed Santiago's discomfiture and Bernardo shared this with him.

They were able to watch each morning as Santiago would come to the cuartel, both to check upon the prisoners and to indulge himself with Capitán Hidalgo. It seemed Hidalgo was quite an accomplished swordsman in his own right, and enjoyed pitting himself against the Magistrado. This morning, the third one since the prisoners had been put in the jail, the Magistrado appeared as usual. After a moment of greeting and of warming up, the two men were ready to begin. Saluting each other with their swords, they looked to Sergeant Garcia to give the signal. Garcia dropped a handkerchief and the blades of both men became mere blurs as they attacked and parried.

Santiago liked testing his skills against those of Hidalgo. He was eager to do "battle" with Hidalgo, having found none better as an opponent since his posting as the Magistrado for the district. However, since Santiago was certain of the outcome of their match, that did take away from the ultimate satisfaction he might have gained from their fencing. Their exercise served to keep his skills sharpened, but knowing how the fencing match would end left something to be desired. He knew Hidalgo did not hold back, he would not have respected the man if he had, but Santiago also knew that the Capitán was not good enough to beat him. No man was. It was Santiago who skillfully made allowances for Hidalgo so that the match would not end too soon. He was so smooth at this Hidalgo did not even recognize he was being accommodated. If Santiago had a desire which he felt would never be met, it would be to find an opponent worthy of his skills. True, he knew that he was the finest swordsman in all California, but it was becoming a hollow title to him without peers of equal skills to acknowledge his greatness. And to his knowledge, there was not a swordsman in California who could aspire to be his peer.

Diego watched the match between the two men with great interest. He found himself studying the style and movements of each man, keenly aware that he would give up almost everything he had in order to have the chance to face either of them with a sword in his hand. Hidalgo had his strength and experience from long years in the military. His style was very direct and forceful. Santiago on the other hand, just seemed to flow from one point to another, his style deceptively so smooth that it almost looked as if he was not exerting himself. Nevertheless, he was able to meet all of Hidalgo's challenges move for move and issue challenges of his own. Diego was riveted, able to forget for a short while where he was and why. From time to time, he would unconsciously make quick and minute movements with his hands, arms, or legs which mirrored the two fencers, so in tune was he with their lightning fast dance. The match between the two men took them over a vast amount of the cuartel's yard as each man sought advantage over the other. Soldiers who happened to be watching sometimes had to skitter out of the way lest they be injured, for neither duelist would give way for them.

It did not take long for Diego to detect the moves Santiago was making to accommodate Hidalgo. He had to admire the subtlety with which they were done. He was sure Hidalgo did not know. The capitán continued fencing with all of his strength and stamina, never backing down from the challenges issued by the Magistrado. Today's match was lasting much longer than had the others Diego had been privileged to witness between the two men. It took great skill to fence for such a long period of time without rest. As one tired, the reflexes slowed, giving your opponent the advantage if his stamina was greater than yours, all else being equal. Diego knew one had to look within oneself to find the strength of will to go on when to falter for just a moment was defeat or . . . death. At last, after a furious flurry of marvelous swordplay, most of it too fast for the eye to follow unless you were also a trained swordsman, Hidalgo's sword went flying to land point first at Sergeant Garcia's feet. Hidalgo bowed to the victor while all the soldiers clapped in appreciation, some shouting bravos.

Diego was as completely impressed with Santiago's stamina and skill as he had been in the past. He could see no weakness in the Magistrado's style or form. The sword seemed to be a completely natural extension of Santiago's hand and mind, a feeling with which Diego had been intimately familiar. In matters of the sword, Diego could still find within him some measure of admiration for the Magistrado. Today's match had ended the way all of the matches had ended between the two men; with Santiago the winner. Hidalgo was good, but Santiago was superior. No wonder that he had been able to defeat Masterswordsman de Vida at the university. He was a man born to the sword. Unconsciously, Diego's right hand clenched and unclenched.

Bernardo watched the duel between Santiago and Hidalgo, but he also watched his young master, understanding his thoughts and desires. He could see how much Diego wanted to take on the two men, but Bernardo quietly had some reservations. He knew Diego was every bit the equal of Santiago when he was in top form, but something had happened which might give Santiago the edge should there ever be a duel between the two of them. Diego had not even so much as practiced with his sword for several months, Not since he became so involved with the work of the Magistrado's office. It was an unintended side effect of all that had happened. Bernardo shook his head to himself. Dueling with a sword in a contest of life and death was a matter of fractions. A mere fraction of an inch here or a minute fraction of a second there could spell instant death for the duelist. Constant rigorous practice was required to keep that keen edge which could split those fractions on the side of life. Practice which Diego had set aside. But watching Diego now, Bernardo understood his young friend. Given the opportunity and the guarantee of safety for his father, Diego would not hesitate to take on Santiago and prevail, or die trying. As he looked around the walls of his cell, Bernardo shrugged to himself. It did not seem as if Diego would ever get the chance. They were constrained by these walls, yes, but much more than that, they were constrained by their love for Don Alejandro and the concern for his life. Bernardo sighed. Narrowing his eyes, he glared at Santiago as the man sheathed his sword and congratulated Hidalgo on a fine workout. Given half a chance, Bernardo would himself be willing to take on Santiago if it would set Diego free and protect Don Alejandro. In this, he was not so different than his friend.


	50. B2 Ch23: So Near and Yet, So Far

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **23 – _So Near and Yet, So Far_**

Friday afternoon came at last and the overland coach from Monterey was due at any moment. Santiago and Capitán Hidalgo were waiting in front of the inn in order to meet it. As they waited, a crowd of curious onlookers gathered and soon word was passed about that the two men were waiting for the arrival of Judge Sebastian Vasca. The coach pulled into the pueblo and circled around to pull up in front of the inn. When it stopped, Hidalgo opened the door and pulled down the folding steps, stepping back as the weighty Judge Vasca came to the door, causing the coach to shift quite perceptibly on its springs. Vasca paused with his foot on the top step as he looked out at the crowd. Seeing the Magistrado, he descended from to the ground and tugged at his coat to straighten it, then reached back inside to pick up his portfolio which he then tucked under his arm.

Santiago stepped up and said, "Your Excellency, may I welcome you to Los Angeles? It is regrettable we must meet again under these circumstances, but that is the nature of things for those in His Majesty's service such as we." Vasca nodded gravely as he gave a small bow in Santiago's direction. Santiago continued, "May I present Capitán Hidalgo of Santa Barbara, temporarily assigned to the cuartel of Los Angeles?"

"Capitán Hidalgo," said Vasca.

"Your Excellency," said Hidalgo with a bow.

Santiago continued, "I am sure you are fatigued by your journey, Your Excellency. If you will come with me, I will have the innkeeper show you to your room where you may refresh yourself."

"Graciás," said Vasca, brushing some of the dust from his sleeve. "That would be most pleasant."

"And then I hope you will do me the honor of dining with the Capitán and myself?" Santiago pulled out his pocket watch. "An hour from now, here at the inn?"

Vasca looked quite pleased at the prospect of food. "That would be most agreeable, Señor Magistrado. I will be ready within the hour."

"Splendid, Your Excellency," said Santiago with a smile. "Please. Come this way." He accompanied Judge Vasca into the inn and stayed until he was sure the judge was well taken care of. He spoke personally to the innkeeper about the menu for the coming meal and told him to be sure he brought out the finest wine in honor of their guest. Then he and Hidalgo left.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Don Alejandro was pacing back and forth across the patio of the hacienda. He was consumed with thoughts of Diego and of the charges against him. He asked himself the same questions over and over about what had happened to Diego and why his son would not confide in him. He kept coming up with the same empty answers. He just could not understand it. But he could no more quit thinking about it than he could quit breathing. Many times in the past few days he had been on the verge of riding into the pueblo to try just once more to talk to Diego, but his anger at their last meeting still stood between them. He had kept alive the tiniest flicker of hope that Diego would have sent for him, giving him an opening to speak with his son again, but nothing like that had happened. This fueled Don Alejandro's anger and frustration even more.

He paused in his pacing as he heard several horses coming up to the patio gate. In a moment, one of the vaqueros from the rancho, Miguel, came in. Two others remained outside. Miguel hesitated a moment when he saw Don Alejandro. He took off his hat and held it in his hands.

"Yes? What is it, Miguel?" asked Don Alejandro.

"Patrón, we have just come from the pueblo," said Miguel. "We were there when the coach from Monterey came in. We thought you should know Judge Vasca has come to Los Angeles."

Don Alejandro felt an electric jolt pass through him at the mention of that name. He could not speak. He waved his hand to dismiss the vaquero, who left quietly. Outside the patio, the men led their horses away.

Judge Vasca. Don Alejandro had the utmost respect for Judge Vasca, having met the man during the time of his own trial under the rule of Monastario. That Vasca was an honest and fair judge there was no doubt. He had reviewed the "trial" evidence concerning Nacho Torres and Don Alejandro even after Licenciado Pena had declared them not guilty. He had come to the same conclusion, although not for the same reasons, and had said so in an official report to the Governor. Don Alejandro believed this report was instrumental in causing the Viceroy to visit the pueblo several months later. This was the visit which resulted in the removal of Monastario from office. Don Alejandro had been away from Los Angeles at the time, but he now called to mind that Diego had been involved in the final removal of Monastario. As remarkable as it seemed, Monastario had been convinced that Diego was Zorro. Don Alejandro snorted now. Diego, Zorro? What a flight of fancy that was. No, Diego had no fire in him which would allow him to be the masked swordsman. Don Alejandro had proved that to himself many times as he tried to involve his son in the affairs which demanded action. Diego was just not interested and the few times he actually seemed to be interested, his ideas were so untenable that no one took him seriously. Don Alejandro closed his eyes as he relived the pain of those times.

He opened them as he thought about Diego again. Something had happened to Diego, which was as yet unexplained. He had taken up a job with the Magistrado's office, dealing in civil affairs with a dedication he had only before shown to his books and music. At the time, Don Alejandro thought it completely out of character for Diego, but was glad he was doing something productive at last. He had the utmost respect for Señor Santiago and no cause to question the job he was doing. Until the situation with Zorro had arisen, the pueblo had been free from trouble. Now the outlaw was burning, robbing, and kidnaping. How could Diego be involved with that? He was in jail at this very moment charged with conspiracy and treason. Judge Vasca's arrival brought that fact into sharp focus once again. Don Alejandro needed to understand. He needed to hear from Diego's own lips what had happened. He would have to try again. He could not live with himself if he did not try again. He went to get his hat.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Santiago and Hidalgo were just returning to the inn in time for their meal with Judge Vasca when they saw Don Alejandro riding into the plaza, heading in the general direction of the cuartel. They exchanged looks. Santiago raised his hand and caught Don Alejandro's attention and somewhat reluctantly, the older man came to where they were. "Don Alejandro," greeted Santiago. "You have come to see Diego?"

Don Alejandro dismounted and said, "Sí, Your Excellency."

Santiago was gratified to see the new lines around Don Alejandro's eyes and the weariness which seemed to have settled on the older man's shoulders. How well his plan was working, he thought to himself. "It is a sad time," said Santiago, playing up to him. "You perhaps have heard Judge Vasca has arrived? The trial will be able to take place on Monday morning as planned."

"Sí, I have heard," said Don Alejandro. "That is why I have come to the pueblo. I must speak with Diego again. You will excuse me, Your Excellency, if I still believe there has to be some rational explanation for what happened."

"Of course, Don Alejandro," said Santiago, sympathetically. "It would not be natural if you did not believe so. However, I am sure you know that I do not share your optimism. The evidence is too strong. Señor, I must say again that the charges against Diego are true and will be proven in court three days from now."

Don Alejandro scowled.

Santiago was pleased. He could keep digging at de la Vega's soul, but he did not want to push the old man too far. Not yet. He wanted to send the old don winding down a certain path of personal destruction, which would assure his future plans. He did not want to cause him to explode in a flurry of useless emotions. "Please, Señor de la Vega," he said. "I know this is difficult for you. I must do what I must do under the law to see that justice is served. You can understand that?" Santiago was playing the sympathetic Magistrado to the hilt. Don Alejandro looked him in the eyes and Santiago let nothing but that sympathy show for a moment. He saw the understanding form in Don Alejandro, who nodded at Santiago's words. "I also know you must do what any father must, which is to defend his child as best he can. I would never prevent that." He saw a look of unspoken gratitude in Don Alejandro's eyes. "Please, Señor. Go to Diego. Do not let us keep you any longer. If you can find anything which will help Diego's case, please do not hesitate to come to me. I assure you I have nothing personal against your son. I want only the truth and justice for the accused."

"Graciás," said Don Alejandro, with a slight bow. "Con permisso?" He turned and walked to the cuartel leading his horse, which he stopped to tie at the rail in front of the gates. The sentry posted at the gate looked across the plaza to Santiago and Hidalgo. Santiago nodded and the sentry allowed Don Alejandro to enter.

"Magistrado, do you not think one of us should be there to hear what is said?" asked Hidalgo.

"No, I do not think that will be necessary," mused Santiago. "Both you and I have warned Diego to keep his mouth shut. Fuentes is on duty, is he not?" Hidalgo nodded. "Diego knows that anything he says will be reported to us. He knows Fuentes is your man. Besides, if we are there, it might arouse Don Alejandro's suspicions that something is wrong. Do not be fooled by his somewhat pompous attitude, Capitán. Señor de la Vega is a shrewd old man and we must be careful how he is handled."

Not totally convinced, Hidalgo said, "As you wish, Magistrado." He was not used to such subtlety in his line of work. He just hoped Santiago knew what he was doing.

Santiago smiled and said, "Come, it is time to dine with the judge. Let us not keep His Honor waiting." Together, they entered the tavern.

Diego and Bernardo were being amused by watching Sergeant Garcia's lancers cleaning and polishing their boots, their saddles and other tack. There was little else of interest in the dreary cuartel and even watching soldiers polishing their boots was at least something to do. Bernardo was lying on his bed, holding some pebbles in his hand. He was tossing them idly at his upturned hat, trying to see how many he could get in, but not really concerned all that much with his accuracy. He, too, eyed the soldier's cleaning detail with detached interest. His attention was drawn to Diego as his young master sat up straight on his bed. He followed Diego's gaze and saw Don Alejandro standing at the cuartel gate, waiting to be admitted. Bernardo sat up also.

Diego watched Don Alejandro enter the cuartel accompanied by the sentry. His heart leaped with the love he felt for his father. He could see the toll that this whole affair was having on his father and was sorry for it. The muscles in his jaw worked with the frustration he felt in not being able to do anything about it. Bernardo caught his attention and motioned to indicate their guard who had gone to meet the two men. Bernardo cupped his ear and made the signs for Santiago and Hidalgo. Diego nodded. He also knew Fuentes was Hidalgo's man and would strictly follow his orders to listen to everything that was said. Fuentes was a no nonsense kind of soldier, and would not allow himself to be distracted. Again, Diego's jaw worked with his frustration. Oh, for only a few moments alone with his father!

But that was not to be. Fuentes accompanied Don Alejandro to the jail and then stood back only a few paces as he took up his post. His hard eyes met Diego's, promising that he would miss no detail of what happened here. Diego sighed. He returned his attention to the man in front of him. "Father," he said.

"Diego," said Don Alejandro, looking at his son through the iron bars of the jail cell. He took a deep breath. "I have come once more to ask you to make me understand what has happened," he said without preamble. "I want to help you, my son."

"I know you do, Father," said Diego sincerely. "I, . . .," he glanced again at Fuentes. There was no chance. He could only couch his words carefully. "I am sorry, but I there is nothing I am _able_ to say to you." He looked deeply into Don Alejandro's eyes, willing his father to read between the words. "Nothing except to say that I am innocent." He glanced back at Fuentes to gauge the response. Fuentes' face was still hard, but he did not make any threatening motions.

Don Alejandro's anger and frustration, barely restrained, surfaced once again. "You have nothing to say to me? Me? Your father?" he said loudly. "What would you have me believe? You say that you are innocent. All right. Give me something to go on. Give me something to work with, Diego."

"I, . . . can only say . . . that I am innocent," said Diego as sincerely as he could.

Don Alejandro fumed. "Obviously there is something you are hiding, Diego," he said angrily. "Why won't you tell me?"

Again Diego said the only thing open to him, "There is nothing I am _able_ to say, Father." He could see the negligent effect his words were having on Don Alejandro. His father's anger was obscuring Diego's actual words. He only knew that his son was refusing to confide in him and that hurt him deeply. He could not hear the inflection which Diego had placed upon the words he had spoken. What Diego was able to say was just not enough to give his father a clue about what was really happening. In his turn, Diego was also becoming frustrated.

In a sarcastic tone which scorched Diego's soul, Don Alejandro said, "Are you not able to say anything because that would expose your master, Zorro? Are you protecting him?"

"Oh, no, Father!" exclaimed Diego before he could stop himself. Fuentes took one step closer to the cell in response and Diego pulled himself up short. He could not respond further without endangering his father. But how his heart was being torn by his father's words!

"Then just what is going on?" demanded Don Alejandro all the louder.

Diego could only shake his head. Sadly, he looked into his father's eyes and said nothing. His throat was constricted with the anger, frustration, and sorrow that he was feeling right now. For just a moment, he almost decided to throw every caution to the winds and defy the Magistrado's threats. He would just tell his father everything and suffer the consequences. Anything was better than having his father think him a despicable traitor. Even if they both should die from it, that would be better than what he was facing now. He paused and reflected. But that would be selfish, he thought to himself. _My honor is nothing if I protect it only to see my father die beside me on the gallows. I have sworn to protect those that I can and if my death will protect my father, so be it._ Diego dropped his eyes and would no longer meet his father's.

Seeing Diego's refusal to answer, Don Alejandro raised his chin and squared his shoulders. "All right then. I have tried to help you. You obviously do not want my help. I will not trouble you further. Farewell, my son." With one last soul wrenching look, Don Alejandro turned to walk away.

Diego could not help himself. Through the bars of his cell, he reached out and clutched at his father's shoulder, causing him to stop. "I am so sorry, Father," Diego said softly.

Don Alejandro did not turn around. He would not look at Diego. He remained unyielding and, after only a moment, he began walking toward the cuartel gates, leaving Diego to look after him from the confines of his cell.

Tears were chasing down Bernardo's face as he watched Don Alejandro walk away.

Don Alejandro walked outside the gates of the cuartel, moving through the curious people who had gathered there to watch the meeting between himself and Diego. He neither looked at or acknowledged any of them as he took the reins of his horse from the rail. His heart was full of anger and pain, but he set his face in stone. He would give none of these people a display, nothing for them to whisper about behind his back. He prepared to mount, but stopped as he heard some people from across the plaza cry out. Still holding onto the saddle horn, he turned to see what was happening.

"Zorro! It is Zorro!" the people were crying loudly as they scattered, running for their safety.

Don Alejandro looked and saw to his surprise that it was indeed the masked outlaw flying through the plaza on his raven black horse. He rode straight up to the Magistrado's house and flung something at the front door. Spinning his horse around, he raised his fist and cried out, "Magistrado! Heed my warning! I keep my promises!" Then he kicked his horse into a flat gallop and flew out of the plaza in the opposite direction, his black cape billowing behind him. After a momentary pause, the soldiers on duty were finally able to get organized and they fired several shots after the outlaw, but they hit nothing. The outlaw escaped and the plaza grew quiet.

Seeing then that the soldiers were just milling around and doing nothing as they waited for further orders, Don Alejandro growled deep in his throat and angrily mounted his horse. "Out of my way!" he cried as he whipped his horse into a gallop. "Out of my way!" He was going to follow Zorro into the fires of Hades if that was what it took to capture or kill the man responsible for embroiling his son in his schemes. He wanted answers or he wanted revenge. He urged his horse on, flying out of the pueblo in pursuit of the masked man.

Their meal interrupted by one of the peons who ran into the tavern to tell everyone about Zorro, Santiago and Hidalgo left the judge and ran outside just in time to see Zorro disappear in a hail of bullets followed closely by Don Alejandro in pursuit. They glanced at each other at this new wrinkle in the situation. Santiago had not planned for Uresti to be chased by the elder de la Vega. Santiago was not particularly worried about Uresti being captured or killed, he could take care of himself, but he was concerned Uresti might take it upon himself to be rid of his pursuer. That would not do at all. "Capitán!" he said loudly. "Take your men and set out after the outlaw at once!" In a lower tone, for Hidalgo's ears only, he hissed, "And whatever it takes, send that old fool home alive." Unspoken between them was that the elder de la Vega was to be protected even if it meant the death of Uresti. Don Alejandro's untimely death would put all of Santiago's plans in disarray. He could always get another Zorro.

Hidalgo was sharp enough to pick up on that point. He saluted smartly and said, "Sí, Magistrado!" Then he set off at a run, shouting to his own men to get their horses. He did not trust Garcia's men enough to take any of them. In just moments, he and his men were the ones scattering the crowds as they set off after the outlaw. Santiago watched them disappear. Then his attention was drawn to the people who were staring at the knife stuck in his front door. Grasping the hilt of the ever present sword by his side, he walked swiftly over to his home. He still had a bit of the drama to play.

"Magistrado!" said Doctor Avila who had come over to see what the commotion was all about. "There is a note attached to the knife Zorro threw at your door."

"Graciás, Doctor," said Santiago as he tugged at the knife and pulled it out of the door. Quickly he untied the note and opened it. Doctor Avila politely did not try to read it, but Santiago could tell that he, like all the others, was dying to know its contents. He would give them quite a performance. The paper in his hands began shaking as he said, "What!" He looked at the crowd, anger clouding his face. He waived the note. "This says Zorro intends to harm my wife if Diego de la Vega is not set free by noon tomorrow. See here?" He held the note so that Avila and some others could read it.

The note said: _"Release Diego de la Vega by the twelve o'clock hour on Saturday or I cannot guarantee the safety of your precious wife. Her life for de la Vega's life. Continue with the trial and she dies. This I promise."_ It was signed, Zorro.

Santiago took the paper and read it again. "Never," he said forcefully. "Never will I surrender to an outlaw and a traitor."

By this time, Judge Vasca had arrived in the crowd. "May I see that?" he asked.

Santiago handed the paper to him, watching him as he read. When he looked up, Santiago said, "You know I cannot accede to his demands, Your Excellency. I have my duty to perform and the trial must go on. I will not allow personal matters to stand in the way."

"Very commendable, Señor Magistrado," said Vasca. "But you must take precautions to safeguard your wife."

Just then, Lozano, who had joined the crowd, said, "But everyone knows you cannot stop Zorro, Your Excellency. He goes where he will and does what he says he will do. How can you keep Señora Santiago safe from a man like El Zorro?" Everyone in the crowd murmured that Lozano was right.

"Sí, walls cannot hold him in or keep him out," said one man.

"And he cannot be heard or seen unless he wants to," said another.

"The soldiers have never been able to capture him," said a different man.

"Sí, sí," said another Santiago recognized as Aredo. "And now that he has turned evil, maybe he has sold his soul to El Diablo. Who can stop the black servant of El Diablo?" Many people began nodding and the fear of Zorro was flowing through the crowd.

Santiago was well pleased at the response. He turned to the judge. "Despite what everyone thinks of Zorro, I know he is just a man," he said confidently. "A man who must be brought to justice just like his accomplice, Diego de la Vega. For now, I will post extra guards around the prisoners and post guards around my house. This will stretch our resources very thin, but it cannot be helped. You will please excuse me, Judge Vasca? I am sorry we cannot finish our meal together. But I must go to the cuartel to make the arrangements for the guards. Con permisso?" He bowed to Judge Vasca.

"Of course, Magistrado," said Vasca. "By all means."

Santiago turned and walked toward the cuartel. Now if Hidalgo would just succeed in getting Don Alejandro to cease chasing Zorro, everything would be just as he wished it to be. He was concerned about that, of course, but he was forced to swallow the smile which threatened to cross his lips as he thought about how his plans were coming together and how that in little more than twenty-four hours, he would be rid of Gracilia forever. Assuming of course, Uresti did not get himself killed today.


	51. B2 Ch24: Hearts in Turmoil

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **24 – _Hearts in Turmoil_**

Don Alejandro came home dusty, tired, angry and frustrated. Capitán Hidalgo had caught up with him in the hills as he had searched for the elusive Zorro, and the obstinate soldier had the nerve to order him home in no uncertain terms. Don Alejandro was more upset with himself than he was with Hidalgo. He had let the outlaw give him the slip and had lost his trail within just a few miles. There had been a day when this would not have happened, he thought bitterly to himself. He used to be able to follow a trail with the best of them. But this Zorro was a slippery devil and had simply disappeared. When Hidalgo had found him, Don Alejandro was circling around the last place he had seen the masked bandit, trying to pick up his tracks. He was not ready to give up. He wanted answers, or he wanted Zorro's head. But Capitán Hidalgo had been prepared to use force to send Don Alejandro home and the older man knew it was useless to go against him, though he did resist until Hidalgo roughly told him he and his men would continue the search. Grudgingly, Don Alejandro agreed to go home.

Even though it was early, the sun not yet having set, he decided that he would just go to bed. He was not hungry and there was nothing else he wanted to do. The servants all looked at him with sympathy in their eyes and he could not abide that either. He just wanted to go upstairs and shut himself away from everything. He dressed for bed and lay there trying not to think. He tossed and turned, eventually wrapping himself up in his bedclothes. The face of Diego kept coming to him saying, "I am innocent." He seemed so very sincere. But then, why would his son not talk about what had happened? The face of Don Alfredo also swam before him as his dearest friend told him again and again what he had seen on that fearful, dark night in Santa Barbara. Don Alejandro knew his friend was telling the truth about what he had seen, but there must be another explanation for what had happened. There just had to be another explanation. Then he paused. Or did there?

Don Alejandro turned over again and put his hand to his head to ease the pain of his headache. If there was another explanation, why would Diego not just come out and say it? He had to know that the penalty for the crime he was charged with was death. Was Diego so naive to think he would somehow escape such an ignoble death? Just who was he protecting by his silence? Don Alejandro did not wish to give such thoughts a place in his heart, but they came nevertheless. Could it be true that Diego was protecting the outlaw by his actions? Many men throughout history had been compromised and misled, so much so that they were willing to give their lives for their evil masters. Was Diego that kind of man? How could any son of his be that kind of man? He had not been brought up like that.

Don Alejandro's thoughts turned to Zorro. That the man had charisma, there could be no doubt. Don Alejandro had only been in the man's presence on a few occasions and had felt this himself. Zorro had spoken scarcely a dozen words to him on all of those occasions, but words were not necessary to demonstrate the presence the man had. Always before, Zorro had seemed to be working for the abused and oppressed, seeking to right the wrongs which had been done. Don Alejandro himself had been a recipient of the man's aid. But what did any of them really know about Zorro? Most of the stories were so fantastic, they must have been embellished in the tellings. People read into his actions what they wanted to see. An avenging angel. A savior. A hero.

Don Alejandro snorted at the thought. A hero indeed. Zorro was now showing his true colors. Perhaps Galindo had been right when he blamed Zorro for so much of the misery in the district. It was clear the masked man was a thief and a kidnapper and it also seemed clear that he was involved in a plot to overthrow the government of California. This was out and out treason. Zorro had corrupted and seduced Diego to join him in that treason. There was no other way to interpret the evidence. Don Alejandro ran his hand through his hair several times in anguish. He could not stand the thought of his son committing treason. But if it was true . . . if Diego had joined Zorro, then Zorro was the evil. Diego had been taken in by Zorro. He was just naive enough to be vulnerable and Zorro had taken advantage of him. Used him. And now Diego was protecting the vile outlaw by his silence. Don Alejandro ground his teeth. If only he had caught up with the outlaw today. If only he could have put a bullet into the man's evil heart. He wanted nothing less than death for El Zorro as payment for the ruin he had made of Diego's life. And if that death came at the hands of Don Alejandro, then so much the better.

With these thoughts swirling in his head, it was long into the night before Don Alejandro finally

fell into an exhausted sleep. But even in sleep there was no relief. His dreams were filled with scenes of trials and hangings with the face of the masked outlaw looming over all.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Diego watched from his cell as Hidalgo and his patrol came in. The sun had set and the last dim light was fading. He could tell from the comments amongst themselves as they unsaddled their horses, that the soldiers had been unsuccessful in capturing the imposter. As if any other outcome was possible, he thought to himself. Hidalgo would make sure the imposter was never found. Sergeant Garcia had taken the time to fill him in on all the happenings which had occurred just as his father had been leaving earlier in the day. Garcia was not supposed to talk to the prisoners, no one was, but when Hidalgo and his lancers set out in pursuit of the outlaw, the portly sergeant had somehow found himself near the jail cells and took a chance to speak with his friend. From this, Diego now knew his father had also set out in pursuit of the imposter and he worried over his father's welfare. Diego was relieved to hear one of the lancers mumble something about the old hacendado who had given them so much trouble before he would consent to go home. So, his father was safely at home. That comforted him. A little.

Diego now also knew that a message from the imposter had been delivered to the Magistrado which threatened the life of his wife unless Diego was released from prison. This puzzled both him and Bernardo beyond measure. Zorro was the Magistrado's creature. He would do nothing without orders from Señor Santiago. Therefore, there must be a purpose behind the note beyond the demand for Diego's release. Again and again Diego tried to fit the pieces of the Santiago puzzle together, looking for a rational explanation of what was going on. The pieces simply would not fit no matter how he turned them in his mind. The few facts he had at his disposal were simply not enough. Quietly, so that no one else could hear, he had gone over them with Bernardo, hoping his servant's quick mind would see something he was missing. But Bernardo could only shake his head and shrug to indicate he was as much at a loss to explain things as was Diego.

The only thing which made sense was that the stage was being set for some future purpose by Santiago. Diego's conviction for treason was only a part of it. The conviction was a beginning, perhaps, but certainly not the ending. Then things began to fall apart from that point. His father had been marked for death should Diego not conform to Santiago's wishes and do anything to defend himself at the trial, and now Santiago's wife was marked for death if Diego should be brought to trial. Squarely behind both demands stood His Excellency, Señor Santiago. Diego's head was swimming with the contradictions. But there had to be an answer. There just had to be. However, it seemed the only one with the answer was Santiago himself, and he was not talking.

Leaning back against the wall at the head of his bed, he spoke softly to Bernardo. "My friend, were I not sure that these cold, steel bars of our cages are real, I would say this whole thing is a nightmare and I will awaken in my own bed come the morning." Bernardo nodded his head in thoughtful agreement. "I have had dreams like this before," Diego continued, " where nothing made sense, where things I thought were real changed before my eyes and I was forced to deal with the new reality as best I could. But this is a waking dream, Bernardo. How do I deal with this reality?" Bernardo could only shake his head helplessly. Diego sighed. "Perhaps it would have been better if I had been killed when I last rode as Zorro. At least my father would have known what kind of man I really am. Perhaps he would have taken some pride in what I was able to accomplish in the cause of justice. If I am to die, I would have chosen that death most gladly. But now, to die like this . . ." He trailed off. He saw Bernardo looking at him and he shook his head sadly. "Do not mind me, my friend. I just needed someone to say these things to. My life will buy my father's life and that is what matters now. My little foray into self pity does not change what I will do for him." Bernardo nodded knowingly. He knew Diego's heart.

Further talk between the two of them became impossible as another guard was posted just outside their cells in addition to the man who usually guarded them. Diego saw more men than usual being stationed at various points around the walls and even on top of the walls. It was as though the cuartel was expecting an attack. Curiously, however, the gates to the cuartel were left open so that the people in the plaza could see in. Diego could see them peering into the cuartel as they passed by, pointing at the soldiers and talking among themselves. They always had a frightened look on their faces as they hurried away. Watching this, Diego decided that these extra guards were most likely being put on display just for effect, possibly due to the threat made by the imposter. A threat the Magistrado had certainly manufactured. Whatever the reason, the effect was that the people were more frightened than before. This fear seemed to be an important element of Santiago's plan, . . . whatever it was.

Santiago, himself, had come to the cuartel and spoken with Sergeant Garcia concerning the assignment of extra guards. Two men were dispatched to form a guard at the front and back of Santiago's home while the others had been ordered to fortify the cuartel. Diego had come to the front of his cell to watch and listen, but Santiago had only glanced at the prisoners. This made Diego clench his teeth. Santiago was so sure of his captives, he did not even have the need to come and demonstrate his superior position by speaking to him. This made him quite unique in Diego's experience. Most of the despots and tyrants he had met in his short career as the masked rider seemed to have large egos. Their desire was to make their prey look small at every opportunity as a means to enlarge themselves in their own minds. Was there no weakness in this man?

As night fell, the pueblo grew quiet. The cuartel at last shut its gates for the night. All of the people had gone to their homes and locked themselves inside. Even the tavern was empty. The fear of Zorro had them all cowering in their homes. The soldiers marched wearily up and down at their posts, looking for any sign of the masked rider. Privately, Diego doubted that anything would happen. How could it? Surely Santiago would not have his own wife killed by the imposter? Everyone knew he loved her deeply and spared no expense in her care. Diego had heard for himself the love in Santiago's voice when he spoke of Gracilia. He could not have been mistaken about that. He brought his hand to his chin as he thought about it. He had been wrong about everything else concerning Señor Santiago so far, why not this? The more he thought about it the more plausible it seemed that Santiago could, indeed, be capable of having his wife killed. He had no compunction about killing two innocent men, Bernardo and himself, if it suited his purposes. What would stop him from killing his wife?

Pacing up and down his cell, Diego shook his head. No, he would not believe Santiago was so low that he would have his own wife, a totally helpless invalid and a complete innocent, killed. No one was that low. Not even the serpent, Jorgé Martinez Santiago, was that low.

Or, . . . was he?

Grabbing the bars of his cell, Diego shook them in frustration, causing the guards to jump and point their muskets at him. Holding up his hands and backing away, Diego sat down on his bed. As the guards resumed their posts wondering what had gotten into their prisoner, Diego's desire to get away from his confinement and see to the safety of Señora Gracilia became almost palpable. Even though he still did not know why Santiago would want to have her killed, he was now convinced she was in danger, and there was nothing he could do about it. He pounded his thigh in frustration. As he looked about him, there was simply nothing he could do. Hidalgo's soldiers were the ones on guard duty and they were not as malleable as Sergeant Garcia's men. If he had more time, he might be able to find a way out, but he realized to even attempt to escape in order to help Gracilia would be condemning his father to a certain death, even as remaining in the jail might be condemning Señora Gracilia to the same fate.

He would have to find some way to warn Gracilia. That was his only answer at the moment. But how could he do that from the confines of his cell? He looked around and spied Monastario's abandoned book. Taking some of his paper, he began writing by the dim light of the one lantern which the soldiers kept lit by the cells. He tried to keep the scratching of the pen to a minimum as he did not wish to draw attention to himself. He wrote a message to Gracilia in terms he hoped would appear to be innocent, should the note fall into unfriendly hands.

 _Señora Santiago,  
Perhaps this little gift of mine will not be welcome from one who has been charged as I have been, but I remembered how much you loved to read when we were children. Please accept the gift of this book. It is dry and tedious at times, but chapter eleven is filled with words and ideas which elevate the reader so that one might see with greater clarity that which is before our very eyes. Please do me the honor of accepting this humble gift as a token of my fondness for those childhood memories which we share.  
Your servant,  
Diego de la Vega _

Taking Monastario's book, he began at chapter one and made notes here and there in the margins as if he were commenting on the contents. He made notes throughout the book, all the way to the end. This took quite a while, as he was forced to actually read some of the text so that he could comment upon it. Then he turned to chapter eleven which was titled, "The Hidden Dangers of Life". On the second page of the chapter, he wrote his warning: _Señora, your life is in the greatest danger, not only from Zorro but from Señor Santiago. I believe your husband intends harm to come to you as part of a plan which includes my hanging for treason, a charge against me, which I swear before God, is false. Please, you must trust my warning. If you can secretly obtain a pistol, please do so for your protection and keep it with you always. Keep Sergeant Garcia and his men close to you. Capitán Hidalgo and his men cannot be trusted as he is in league with Señor Santiago. I truly regret I cannot come to you myself. I can only send you this warning and offer my sincere prayers upon your behalf._ He signed his name. Now, if he could only get this to Gracilia. He would have to depend upon Sergeant Garcia. Somehow, he had to find a way to speak to the portly sergeant and ask him to take the book to the señora. He would have to wait for morning.


	52. B2 Ch25: The Warning

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **25 – _The Warning_**

Sergeant Garcia reached over and shook the foot of Corporal Reyes as he sat on the edge of his own bed in the darkness of the early morning. Over in the next bed, Reyes did not awaken, but turned over on his back and snored softly, joining the cacophony of snores from the other men in the barracks. "Corporal Reyes," said Garcia. Seeing no response, Garcia shook his foot again and said, "Corporal Reyes," in a louder voice. Still no response. Quite put out, Garcia said loudly, "Corporal Reyes! Attention!"

Reyes rolled out of his bed and came to attention in his underclothes, even though his eyes remained closed. He swayed slightly. Sergeant Garcia was sure that, even though the man was was standing, he was still asleep. "Wake up, baboso," he said. "We must get ready to take up our posts at the house of the Magistrado." Reyes tried to open his eyes and blinked repeatedly. "Come on and get dressed," said Garcia, who began to do the same. Reyes blinked a few more times and then sat down and began to go through the motions of getting dressed.

They continued in silence for a few more minutes as they dressed in the dim light. By inches, Corporal Reyes seemed to become a little more awake than asleep. He reached under his bed and pulled out his boots to put them on just as Sergeant Garcia was reaching under his bed for his boots at the same time. They bumped their heads together.

"Baboso!" hissed Garcia as he rubbed his head. "Watch what you are doing."

Corporal Reyes was rubbing his head as well. Taking his boots, he moved down to the end of his bed and began to put them on. With one boot on, he paused with the other boot in his hand as he said, "Sergeant? Do you really think Zorro would kill Señora Santiago?"

Garcia stopped what he was doing and said, "There was once a time when I would have said no. But now, I am not so sure."

Reyes said, "Zorro would never hurt a woman." He sounded very definite.

Garcia nodded thoughtfully, but then he said, "Things are different now."

"How are they different?" asked a puzzled Reyes.

Garcia replied, "Well he is, . . . I mean it's just that, . . .," he trailed off. "It is just different, that's all," he finished lamely.

Reyes looked at his sergeant, seeming to be unconvinced. He stood up and buckled his belt around him. "Maybe he got hit on the head," he ventured.

"Who got hit on the head?" asked Sergeant Garcia.

"Zorro."

Garcia exclaimed softly, "Zorro?"

Reyes began to fasten the buttons on his leggings as he spoke. "I had an uncle once, who got hit in the head."

"What happened after he got hit on the head?" asked Garcia.

"Oh," said Reyes, finished with buttoning the leggings. "He died."

Garcia put his hands on both hips and said, "And what has that to do with Zorro getting hit on the head?"

"I don't know, Sergeant," said Reyes, shrugging.

"Then why did you bring it up?" asked Garcia, fuming.

Reyes could only shrug again. Rolling his eyes, Garcia snatched up his hat and his musket and stormed past the Corporal, who looked blankly after him. Pausing at the door, Garcia said, "Are you coming?"

"Yes, go," came the muffled voice of a lancer who was still trying to sleep. "Shhhhhh," hissed another sleepy lancer.

Reyes picked up his musket and placed his hat on his head as he fell in behind Garcia. Together they descended the stairs outside the barracks. It was still quite dark and the stars glittered brightly. Reyes looked over at the jail cells where Diego and his servant were being held. "I bet he knows," he said to the Sergeant.

"Knows what?" asked Garcia.

"I bet Don Diego knows if Zorro got hit on the head."

Long suffering, Garcia stopped and asked, "And what makes you think Don Diego would know anything about that?"

"They have been working together?" Reyes offered.

"We do not know that," said Garcia, still willing to believe the best of his friend. "We only know what one or two people have said."

"Sí, but those people were the Capitán and Don Alfredo. If they said such things about me, I would have to believe them."

"You would believe them if they said your face was blue, Corporal," said Garcia as he led the way over to the capitan's office to check in before taking up their post at the home of the Magistrado.

Diego was watching from his cell and saw his chance to speak to Sergeant Garcia. Going to the bars of his cell, he called out softly. "Sergeant Garcia!"

"Quiet, you!" ordered one of the guards.

Diego would not be quiet. "Sergeant Garcia!" he said again a little louder.

"What is it?" asked Garcia, coming over. "What is the problem?"

Diego spoke up, "Sergeant, if I may have a word with you?" He smiled and motioned through the bars.

"Of course, Don Diego," said Garcia walking up to the cell.

"No one is supposed to speak with the prisoners unless the Capitán says so," said the soldier.

Garcia eyed the lancer who was one of the ones from Santa Barbara. "What is your rank, Private?" he asked the man.

"Umm, a private, Sergeant," said the soldier, confused by the question.

"And what is my rank?"

"Sergeant, . . . Sergeant."

Garcia smiled and nodded. "That is right. I am a sergeant and you are a private. If I wish to speak to the prisoner, I will speak to the prisoner. Privates do not tell sergeants what to do. Am I clear, Private?" He peered at the soldier. He was tired of these men from Santa Barbara being in his cuartel. This was his cuartel after all.

Coming to attention, the soldier said, "Sí, Sergeant. You are very clear."

"Excellent," said Garcia, pleased with himself. "Now you go and stand over there by the _Corporal._ " He pointed to the other guard. "You, too." The two men looked at each other and then went to stand on either side of Reyes, who looked at each of them out of the side of his eyes as he wondered just as much as they what was going on. They were out of earshot of the jail, so they had to be content just to watch.

Diego was impressed with Garcia's performance. "Graciás, Sergeant," he said. "Thank you for speaking with me."

"It is nothing, Don Diego," said Garcia, being somewhat officious. "I merely have to remind the men of their place from time to time. They do not give us good men to make soldiers anymore. Not like when I joined the service of His Majesty."

Diego had to suppress his smile. But to business. "Sergeant, I was wondering if you would do me a favor?" he said.

"Of course, Don Diego," said Garcia.

Diego reached back to the foot of his bed and picked up the book. "I was wondering if you would take this book to Señora Santiago? I would like to make a gift of it to her. I know she likes to read and there are some things in this book I think she would find particularly interesting."

"A gift?" said Garcia, taking the book. He looked it over, but it was clear he had never read anything remotely like this book. He wasn't sure he even understood the title.

Diego pointed to the note sticking out of the pages of the book illuminated by the dim lamplight. "See, Sergeant? There is a little note I wrote to her explaining the book is a gift. I know her illness prevents her from being able to leave her house, but the words in this book can transport one on the wings of imagination, freeing her from her involuntary confinement."

Garcia did not have a clue about what Diego had just said other than the book was a gift to Señora Santiago. "Sí, Don Diego," he agreed, so as not to admit he did not understand what Diego had just said.

"You will not forget?" asked Diego, seeking reassurance. "You will take this book to her?"

Wanting to please his friend, Garcia said, "Sí, Don Diego. I will make sure the Señora gets the book." He tucked the book under his arm.

"Graciás, Sergeant," said Diego. "I knew I could count on you."

Warmed by the words of praise, Garcia smiled. But then he became serious. "I am sorry, Don Diego, but I must go now. Corporal Reyes and I must report to the Capitán and take up our posts at the Magistrado's house. If you will excuse me?"

"Of course, Sergeant," said Diego, politely.

Garcia turned and walked over to the office, waving the two guards to return to their posts near the jail. He knocked on the Capitan's door and was soon admitted. In just a few moments, he and Reyes were on their way out of the cuartel. Diego was watching closely and was relieved to see that the book was still tucked under Sergeant Garcia's arm. At least Hidalgo had not confiscated the volume. Now if Garcia did not forget . . . . He looked at Bernardo and saw the mozo had seen and heard everything. Bernardo nodded and crossed himself quietly. Diego acknowledge him by nodding back. Now they could only wait.


	53. B2 Ch26: Preparations

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chap** **ter 26 – _Preparations_**

No one in the pueblo talked of anything else but the danger to Señora Santiago and the trial of Diego de la Vega. The sound of a galloping horse was enough to send people's hearts racing as they turned at once to see who it might be. Men wiped their brows and the women fanned themselves as they saw with relief that it was not the horse of El Zorro making those sounds. Capitán Hidalgo had lancer patrols assigned to tightly patrol the area, but everyone knew that would mean nothing to Zorro if he chose to strike.

Santiago received reports from Hidalgo and Lozano throughout the day concerning the mood of the people. Lozano was doing a fine job of playing on the people's fears by asking leading questions about Zorro, his phantom army, or Diego. He fueled speculation as to whether or not Zorro would keep his promise concerning Señora Santiago. The Magistrado was quite pleased with his choice of Lozano as his number one operative. The man was quite good. He was also pleased with Hidalgo's work. The capitán had carried out his orders to the letter and had made sure young de la Vega never stepped over the line which Santiago had drawn for him.

Santiago was still somewhat puzzled by Diego's general attitude. From the first, whenever he went into the cuartel, his former deputy could be found playing his guitar or idly watching the goings on in the compound with a bemused look on his face. Santiago had not been present during the two times Diego had spoken to his father, but the reports he had received let him know that the young man had been quite upset each time. However, whenever Santiago appeared, Diego seemed quite at ease with his accommodations and had even smiled at the Magistrado a few times. He had also noticed Diego seemed to watch with quiet intensity the fencing matches between himself and Capitán Hidalgo. But then, everyone had watched those matches, he thought to himself. They were the only entertainment available. Still, Santiago was curious about Diego's bemused attitude. Did the young don fancy that, by some miracle, he would not be sentenced to the gallows? The young so often had the notion they were impervious to death. Such a thing just could not happen to them. Diego was still an idealistic youth for all the many months he had worked for the Magistrado. As Santiago mused upon this, he decided that he had come to the right conclusion. However, Diego de la Vega would come to a rude awakening when the hangman's noose was around his neck. There would be no smiles on the young don's face then.

At mid-morning, Santiago was summoned to the cuartel by Judge Vasca. He found the judge seated in Hidalgo's office.

"Your Excellency?" he said as he came in.

"Señor Magistrado," said Vasca in greeting. "I have asked you here because I have just become aware of a problem which we must resolve."

"A problem, Your Excellency?" said Santiago, wondering what it could be.

"Yes. It seems the servant of Diego de la Vega is a deaf-mute," said Vasca. "Has any attempt been made to formally communicate with him the charges which have been laid against him?"

"It is to be assumed his master would have taken care of such a matter," said Santiago. "They have been jailed next to one another and he would have had ample opportunity since their capture."

"That is not acceptable," said Vasca. "I must know that those coming before my court are in full possession of their faculties and understand the charges against them."

Santiago glanced at Hidalgo. Then he said, "Of course, Your Excellency. What would you suggest?"

Diego stood and approached the bars of his cell as Hidalgo came out of his office and headed for the jail. Bernardo stood also. They had both seen first the judge, then the Magistrado, enter Hidalgo's office and were curious to know what was taking place. It looked like they might find out now.

"You. Guards. Open the cells and escort these prisoners to my office at once," said Hidalgo testily. He seemed rather irritated at being used to perform such a menial task. "Be quick about it!" he snapped.

The cells were opened and Diego and Bernardo stepped out, glancing briefly at one another before being pushed toward the commandante's office. Hidalgo, himself, opened the door and entered with Diego and Bernardo following. They stepped into the office and were made to stand before Vasca, who was still seated, and Santiago, who was standing just beside the judge.

The guards took up positions directly behind the prisoners with their muskets at the ready. Diego looked questioningly at Santiago, but did not say anything. He would wait to see what was at hand.

"Diego," said Santiago. "It has been brought to my attention that a little matter needs to be cleared up before the trial. His Excellency has asked an important question concerning your deaf-mute servant. One which we must resolve to his satisfaction."

"And that is?" asked Diego.

Vasca spoke up. "We must be sure that your servant knows and understands the charges against him. Also, I must satisfy myself he is mentally competent to stand trial. I will not sanction the prosecution of anyone where this is not so."

"His Excellency is right, of course," said Santiago with a little smile. "To that end, we want you, Diego, to explain the charges to your servant to His Excellency's satisfaction."

Diego dared not look at Bernardo, but he knew this was the way out for his servant friend. All Bernardo had to do was to play the fool as he had so many times before and the judge would not allow him to be tried. It was by no means certain whether Bernardo would ever be released from custody, but he would not be convicted of treason and sentenced to die as a result. It was a chance at life for his friend. Willing Bernardo to take the opportunity, Diego bowed slightly and said, "I will do as you ask, Your Excellency."

"Splendid," said Santiago. "Here are the charges which will be presented in court . . . ."

Diego listened to the charges, knowing Bernardo could hear them also. Then he began signing them to Bernardo. Their eyes met and Diego could read what was written there. _No_ he shook his head silently for only Bernardo to see as his hands motioned other things. _Take your chance for life. Now._ But Bernardo calmly watched Diego's hands as they formed the motions which were to communicate the charges against him. Everything was conducted in complete silence with Vasca and the others fixed upon the performance. Vasca was watching the signs, trying to interpret them for himself to assure that the concepts were getting across to the servant. He was quite impressed with the silent language being practiced by young de la Vega, although once or twice, Bernardo looked puzzled and made his own signs and Diego would repeat some portion of the phrasing. Finally, after his eyes locked with Diego's for a long moment, Bernardo turned to Judge Vasca and nodded that he understood the charges against him.

With a catch in his own voice, for he saw in Bernardo's eyes that he would not take the opening given to him by the judge, Diego said, "He understands, Your Excellency. He knows the charges against him." He had to swallow past the lump in his throat. He should have been angry at Bernardo for not playing the fool, but found he could not. The look of loyalty in his friend's eyes had taken that away and replaced it with something else. Something that would span death and beyond. Bernardo was letting him know that they were in this together, never to be separated.

Judge Vasca spent a few more moments asking questions of Bernardo and having Diego translate them. At last, he was satisfied that Bernardo knew what he was facing and was satisfied Bernardo was competent to stand trial. Diego and Bernardo were dismissed to be returned to their cells.

Bernardo remained standing at the bars of his cell, looking out at the compound as Diego sat down on his bed and looked at his servant's back. Diego could only shake his head slowly as he thought about the sacrifice Bernardo was willing to make. When Santiago and the judge had gone and when everything had returned to normal in the cuartel, then Bernardo turned around and faced Diego. They exchanged looks. Finally, Bernardo shrugged his shoulders a little and put on a brave little smile. "You silly fool," murmured Diego, so that only Bernardo could hear. Bernardo ruffled his hair with his hands and skipped a step or two with a silly smile on his face. Diego could not help it. He laughed. Quietly at first, then a low chuckle which threatened to get out of hand. Soon, both he and Bernardo were holding their stomachs and laughing, trying desperately not to attract the attention of the guards. Diego realized their laughter was just a release from the tremendous tension the two of them had endured thus far. A certain giddiness had come upon them. The choice was to either laugh or to cry and they had chosen laughter. When, after a time, their laughter had subsided, Diego leaned over next to the bars of the cell between them and said, "Graciás, Bernardo. Thank you for everything."

Bernardo knew the whole context in which those few words were spoken and nodded in silent recognition. He had chosen well when he had chosen to serve this man next to him.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

At the noon hour, Santiago stepped out on the balcony of his office and looked down. Instantly, there was a crowd gathered below just as he knew there would be. He waited until the crowd had grown sufficiently, then raised his hand to silence them. "As you can see," he spoke out, "I have not ordered the release of the accused criminal, Diego de la Vega. Nor shall I. I am committed to the course of seeing that 'Justice is served' and will not swerve from it. No threats from a traitorous outlaw are enough to keep me from my duty as Magistrado in the King's service. De la Vega will remain in jail and the trial will go on as scheduled. And, as soon as we can capture his master, the outlaw Zorro will stand trial as well. This I promise to you, upon my honor." Santiago was gratified to hear the ragged cheers coming from the crowd. They were impressed by his words so bravely spoken, but they still feared what Zorro would do when de la Vega was not released. Santiago bowed solemnly to the crowd and went back into his office.

Just before two o'clock in the afternoon, Santiago stepped out of his house after having a mid-day meal. Again, all eyes in the plaza were instantly drawn to him. This pleased him greatly, but he did not let that go to his head. Sergeant Garcia was at his post guarding the front of the house. He snapped to attention when he saw Santiago. "Sergeant Garcia," said Santiago. "Please come here." He waited while Garcia walked over.

"Sí, Magistrado?"

"Sergeant, go to the inn and speak to Judge Vasca. Ask him if he would be gracious enough to come to a meeting with myself and Capitán Hidalgo in my office right away. I have come to a decision about what to do concerning my wife and I wish to inform His Excellency of my plans."

Garcia saluted and said, "At once, Señor Magistrado." Santiago nodded and Garcia set off for the inn. Hidalgo already knew about the meeting and would be coming soon.

Santiago stepped back into his house to pick up his hat and the sword which he attached to his belt. He heard a soft moan from Gracilia's room. He could not see his wife from where he was, but he did not have to. "Moan," he muttered under his breath. "Moan all you want to, my dear. Moan until you have no breath left in you. Soon neither you nor I will ever have to listen to your moans again. Truly, I do wish to help you my dear wife," he smiled wickedly. "It seems I have found the ultimate cure for your illness . . . and he rides a black horse." Santiago laughed.

Donning his hat, Santiago left his house and proceeded up the stairs to his office. When he reached the balcony, he could see Hidalgo coming across the plaza. He went in and sat down behind his desk, waiting. In moments, Hidalgo knocked on the door and was admitted. They both waited on Judge Vasca. They did not have long to wait. Santiago could hear the heavy footsteps of two large men as they came up the stairs and over to the door of the office. As Garcia knocked on the door, Santiago came to open it.

He bowed. "Your Excellency," he said. "Please come in and thank you for being so gracious as to honor my request for a meeting."

"Of course," said Vasca, entering the office.

Turning to Garcia, Santiago said, "You may resume your post, Sergeant." He closed the door as he said, "Please, Your Excellency, do be seated." Vasca sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Santiago indicated the other chair and Hidalgo was also seated. Going behind his desk and facing both men while standing, Santiago said, "I have asked both of you to come here because I have decided what is to be done about my wife's safety."

"Very well," said Vasca. "Pray, tell us what is to be done."

"First, Your Excellency, let me assure you that with all honor, I will see to my duties as the King's magistrate and carry on with the trial of Diego de la Vega. That this outlaw, Zorro, threatens my wife can have no bearing on that duty." Vasca nodded with approval for the strong stand taken by the Magistrado. Santiago continued, "However, I have concluded that Los Angeles is too dangerous a place for my dear Gracilia," With all the care and concern he could muster, Santiago said, "I have therefore, decided to send her by coach to Monterey where she can stay with her uncle, the Governor, for her protection. I almost cannot bear the thought that she will be so far away from me, for I love her dearly, but it is because I love her so I feel I must send her to Monterey. There she will be far away from Zorro and his threats."

"A wise decision," said Judge Vasca. "There will, of course, be a military escort? The road to Monterey is long and not without dangers from others besides Zorro."

"Oh, of course, Your Excellency," said Santiago. "That is why I have asked Capitán Hidalgo to be here." Turning to Hidalgo, he said, "I want you to assign two men to act as armed escorts for the coach, Capitán. I know your manpower is limited, but I would not order this if I did not feel it necessary."

"I will place two of my men at your immediate disposal," said Hidalgo. "Just tell me where and when and they will be there, Magistrado."

"Graciás, Capitán," said Santiago. "That is the next point I wish to discuss. I will have Gracilia's servant woman prepare her for the journey. It should take no more than an hour. Can you have your escort here by three o'clock, Capitán?"

"Sí," was the quick reply.

Santiago turned back to Judge Vasca. "Your Excellency, I asked you to come here so that you might be reassured there will be no delay in the trial for de la Vega. I am determined that no matter what threats Zorro may make against the pueblo or myself personally, I will not be swayed from my duty. 'Justice will be served' is not just a motto, which I speak lightly. I believe it here," he tapped his chest over his heart, "and would myself be deemed a traitor to my country and my King were I to bow to these threats and set young de la Vega free. I would die before I would let that happen," he said, pounding his fist upon his desk for emphasis.

"Bravely spoken," said Judge Vasca. "No one in his majesty's service can let the lawless dictate our actions. We are the representatives of law and order. If we fail in our duty, we have failed the people of California and we will have failed our King. Yes, the trial must take place on Monday morning as planned. Whether young de la Vega is ultimately declared innocent or guilty is perhaps of lesser importance than the fact that we will not be frightened away from doing our duty. We must set the example for all the people."

"Well said, Your Excellency," exclaimed Santiago, in tones of genuine admiration. "We will not give in to the demands of the lawless among us." He paused thoughtfully. "Your Excellency," he said with concern, "Despite our bravado, I feel we must also see to your protection while you are in the pueblo. To that end, I wish to assign at least two soldiers to remain with you at all times. You are much too valuable to California."

Vasca was flattered, but he tried not to show it. "Ahem. You may be right, Señor Magistrado," he said. "About the protection," he hastened to add. Santiago smiled.

"I am glad you agree, Your Excellency," said Santiago with a small bow. "Capitán, I will have to prevail upon you to provide two more men as guards for His Excellency."

"Of course, Magistrado," said Hidalgo. "I will see to it immediately after we are through here."

"I think that we have covered everything, Capitán," said Santiago. "With His Excellency's permission," he looked at Vasca who nodded, "I will not detain you any longer." He looked at his watch. "It is now a quarter past two o'clock. My wife should be ready to leave in one hour. Have the escort here by a quarter after three o'clock. In the mean time, have His Excellency's guards report to him at the inn."

Hidalgo stood, "Sí, Magistrado." He turned to Vasca and bowed, "Your Excellency?"

"Capitán," acknowledged Vasca as he lifted his hand to signal the man's dismissal. Hidalgo left immediately and the judge stood up to leave. "I will return to my room at the inn, Señor," he said to Santiago. "I have some reading I wish to do in preparation for the trial. Please accept my sincere wishes for a safe journey for your wife. It is regrettable that it has come to this, but I believe you have made the right decision."

"Graciás, Your Excellency," said Santiago with a bow. He led Vasca to the stairs outside his office and escorted him to the ground level. Motioning to Sergeant Garcia to come over he said, "Sergeant, you will escort Judge Vasca over to the inn and remain on guard outside the door to his room until the men Capitán Hidalgo will send to replace you arrive. Then you will return to your post here."

Garcia saluted and said, "Sí, Magistrado!"

"Señor Magistrado," said Vasca with a small bow. As he turned and walked to the inn, Garcia trailed one step behind him all the way.

Santiago watched them go with satisfaction. Judge Vasca's opinion of him had been quite good before this, but Santiago felt he had risen further in the judge's estimation by his performance this afternoon. Honor and duty above all. These were the things which appealed to Judge Vasca above all else. Santiago had given him a shovel full of both. He smiled. But now, . . . now to fulfill one of his most ardent desires: to set himself free from the woman who troubled his house.

He entered that very house now, and went straight to Gracilia's room. He saw his wife was as still as death, and so very pale that he wondered for a moment if his elaborate plans to be rid of her were to be wasted after all. But then, she moved slightly and moaned under her breath as she slept under the influence of the laudanum. Santiago found he was disappointed once again. Sighing to himself, he looked around the room for Pippa who had risen from her chair as he had entered the room. In her hands, she held the needlework on which she had been working.

"Pippa," said Santiago. "You will prepare your mistress for a journey to Monterey."

"Monterey!" breathed Pippa, taken aback. She dropped the needlework onto her chair.

"Sí, Monterey," acknowledged Santiago. "Zorro's threat against Gracilia has made it much too dangerous for her to remain here. She will be sent by coach to her uncle for her protection. You will get her ready and pack her things at once. There is not much time. I will return in one hour and she had better be ready."

"But Señor Santiago, she is so very ill," said Pippa, holding out her hands in supplication. "She cannot possibly make such a journey. She is in so much pain, Señor."

Santiago's dark eyes became hard. "It cannot be helped. Do as I have ordered and have her ready in one hour or it will not go so well with you. There are others who would be glad of a job such as yours. Do I make myself clear?"

Pippa put her hand to her mouth. "Sí, Señor Santiago," she said softly. "I will have the señora ready."

"See that you do," said Santiago. He walked over to his wife's bed. "I am sorry I must do this, my dear," he said. "But you will be much safer with your uncle." Gracilia opened her eyes, but there was little or no recognition in them. Santiago clenched his jaws against the revulsion he felt at the shell of the woman lying there before him. He longed for the next hour to pass quickly. Without another glance at his wife lying in her bed, he left the room.

Pippa stared after him for a few moments, unable to move. This was all so unexpected. She looked at her mistress in her bed and wondered how Señor Santiago could order such a thing. The poor woman had nearly succumbed to her illness and pain on the journey to Los Angeles and now he was sending her back? Then Pippa remembered Señor Santiago had mentioned Zorro. Her blood ran cold. She did not know all that much about the outlaw except for those things repeated to her by Santiago's manservant and the things she heard around the marketplace. Horrible things. Atrocities. Each story more terrible than the first. How that he had turned from doing good to doing that which was evil. And now, he threatened her mistress with death. Perhaps it would be a very good thing to get away from Los Angeles. Monterey was well guarded and they would be safe there. Besides, it would get them away from Señor Santiago and, to Pippa's mind, that would be worth the trip. She started as she remembered Santiago's warning that she would only have an hour to get her mistress dressed and her things packed. She did not dare disappoint Señor Santiago. Quickly, she dragged a trunk out from under the bed and began putting things into it.


	54. B2 Ch27: Silent Warnings

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **27 – _Silent Warnings_**

Gracilia was barely aware of the preparations being made so hastily for her journey to Monterey. As always, the laudanum dulled her mind and she watched Pippa's activities with a disinterested gaze. She could not trouble herself to wonder just what it was all about. She vaguely remembered her husband coming to her bedside to tell her something, but it required too much effort to recall anything he might have said. She rather wished Pippa would quit bustling about and leave her in peace, but did not make the effort to protest. She closed her eyes and let herself drift away to the place within herself where nothing mattered, where nothing could disturb her.

Pippa packed her mistress' things for the journey. She fussed over the items, wishing she could ask Señora Gracilia which items she wanted and which she did not, but her mistress was unable to make those choices. Pippa did the best she could. At last, she had the luggage packed and went to pack her own valise. When she finished, she prepared to dress her mistress for the trip. Pippa used cloths dipped in cold water, trying to rouse Gracilia to some semblance of consciousness and alertness. She patted Gracilia's hands and her cheeks to try and rouse her more.

"Señora," she said. "Señora, wake up. We must get you ready for the journey." Gracilia tried to focus her eyes. "Sí, Señora, that's it," said Pippa. "Come on, you can do it. We need to sit up now so I can dress you properly. It is warm now in the middle of the day, but it will be colder tonight." Pippa pulled on her mistress' arms and was just able to get her to sit up. Gracilia blinked a few times and mumbled something as she tried to lay back down. "No, Señora!" said Pippa. "You must wake up. Señor Santiago is waiting. He will grow impatient if we do not hurry." Pippa was becoming afraid. What was she to do if she could not get Señora Gracilia to wake up? She did not wish to face the fire which would be in Santiago's dark eyes if she did not have her mistress ready in a relatively short time. In desperation, she slapped Gracilia once. When that did not work, she slapped her again. Then she put her hands over her mouth in fear of what she had dared to do.

But Pippa's action had broken the spell of the medicine for the moment. Gracilia took in a sharp breath and her hand reached up to touch her cheek where she had been struck. She rubbed it gently for a moment and then her eyes focused on Pippa. "You struck me," she said, not accusingly, but in wonder.

"Oh, sí, Señora," Pippa said in a tiny voice. "Please forgive me, but I had to do something to awaken you."

"Awaken me?" Gracilia asked absently. A pause, then, "Why?"

"Oh, Señora, do you not remember? Señor Santiago is sending you to Monterey, to your uncle, the Governor."

"Why?"

"Because that horrible outlaw, Zorro, has threatened to kill you if Señor Santiago goes through with the trial for the traitor, Diego de la Vega," Pippa said breathlessly.

Gracilia's mind could not take in all that Pippa was saying, but she focused on the name, Diego de la Vega. "Diego?" she said softly. Something was wrong. "Diego, a traitor, Pippa?" she asked as she tried to think. She wasn't really sure how she knew, but she was able to say, "No, it isn't so." Something coalesced in her mind then, and with sudden clarity, she remembered a note. A note she had written for Diego. It should be under her pillow. She reached for it.

Pippa, thinking that her mistress was trying to lie down again, took her hand in hers and said, "No, Señora! Please. We must get you dressed. Time is short. Come, sit there while I help you to dress."

Gracilia continued to have trouble gathering her thoughts, but she was now fixated on the note. She had thrust it under her pillow, . . . how long ago? She did not know. Was it still there? She tried to reach for it again. Pippa stopped her and proceeded to remove her bedclothes and dress her in her traveling clothes. Her task was made more difficult in that Gracilia did very little to help her, the young woman's eyes being fixed upon the pillows at the head of her bed.

Finally, Pippa was satisfied with the clothing. Now for the hair. "Please, Señora, you just sit there for a moment while I go and get your brush and combs. We will fix up your hair. We want you to look nice when you say goodbye to Señor Santiago." She went over to the bureau.

Gracilia took that moment to lean over and reach under her pillow. She found nothing. Panicked, she felt around frantically. Where was it? Had it been discovered? It must be there!

Pippa turned around and saw Gracilia groping underneath the pillows and said, "What is it, Señora? What is the matter?"

"Where is it, Pippa?" said Gracilia. "You must help me to find it."

Seeing that her mistress was deeply distressed, Pippa moved the pillows aside, revealing a folded paper at the very head of the mattress. Another inch and it would have slipped over the edge and fallen onto the floor underneath the bed.

"Ah!" exclaimed Gracilia as she grabbed the paper, clutching it to her bosom. She could not quite remember why this paper was so important to Diego, but he must have it. He must. "Pippa," she said. "Pippa you must promise me to take this paper to Diego de la Vega at once. Promise me!"

"Oh no, Señora Gracilia," said Pippa, horrified at the thought. De la Vega was a criminal. He was in the jail at the cuartel. She could not go there. But Gracilia did not know this. Because of her illness and the influence of so much medication, no one had told her about Diego de la Vega. Pippa had not wished to disturb her with such terrible news.

"You must, Pippa," said Gracilia. "I order you to take this note to Diego de la Vega . . . or to his father." Gracilia's eyes were wide and bore straight into Pippa's. "Do you hear me, Pippa? Take this to Diego or to his father immediately!"

Fearing her mistress was going mad, Pippa swallowed and said, "Sí, Señora. I will take the paper to Diego de la Vega." She took the note from Gracilia's trembling hand and tucked it into her blouse. She would play along with the request just to try and calm the señora. Her plan worked. Gracilia became calmer at once, though she still held Pippa's eyes with her own. "I promise to go as soon as we have your hair put up and you have your warm cloak around your shoulders," Pippa said. She smiled to show her good intentions.

"Very well," said Gracilia, reaching out to gather Pippa into an embrace, though it hurt her very much to do so. "You have never broken your promises to me, Pippa. You are a good woman and a good friend." She smiled and Pippa suddenly felt very guilty that she was deceiving her mistress. But it could not be helped. There would be no time to deliver a message to anyone once she went and told Señor Santiago his wife was ready. But, the señora would not need to know that.

"Graciás, Señora Gracilia," Pippa said. "But come now, let me brush your hair."

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Outside, the coach, drawn by four horses, had pulled up to the Magistrado's front door followed by two mounted lancers. "Wait here," said Sergeant Garcia to the coachman. He walked past Doctor Avila as he went to the door and knocked politely. The doctor was to make one last examination of his patient before she was placed in the coach. The Magistrado himself opened the door.

Garcia saluted and said, "Your Excellency, the coach is here. And so is Doctor Avila." The doctor bowed.

"Graciás, Sergeant," said Santiago, not mentioning that Garcia had stated the obvious. Nothing could change his mood at the moment. He was singularly happy. Careful not to let his happiness show, he retained his sober demeanor. "My wife is not yet ready, but I am sure it will not be long." What is keeping them, he wondered to himself. Surely that servant woman had had enough time to get his wife ready by now. He turned as he heard footsteps coming from within the house. It was Pippa.

"Señor Santiago?" she said.

"Sí, Pippa?"

"Señora Santiago is ready now."

"Good. Where is her luggage?"

"In her room, Señor," said Pippa.

Motioning to Garcia, Santiago said, "Sergeant, you will come with me to get the Senora's luggage while you, Doctor, may examine my wife."

"Sí," replied the Sergeant, as both men followed Santiago into the house.

Santiago saw Gracilia was seated on the side of her bed, dressed in the same traveling clothes she had worn when they had first come to Los Angeles. She turned her face to look at him and he was struck by her otherworldly translucency. Usually her illness made her look like little more than someone who was barely alive, but for this moment, her skin, her eyes, and her hair had taken on a special glow which he could not identify. It was almost as if she had already left this mortal world and only her spirit remained here by the most tenuous of threads. Santiago shook himself mentally. He was letting his imagination run away with him. He looked at Gracilia again and saw then what he always saw. A very sick woman, pale, thin and worn from the pain and the medicine. His brow furrowed as he puzzled over what he had thought he had seen. But the doctor was fussing over his wife as usual and he decided it did not matter what he had seen or not seen; he just wanted to get out of this room now.

"Come, Sergeant. You take those two bags and I will take these," he said as he picked up two large pieces of the luggage.

"Sí, Magistrado," said Garcia, as he complied. Both men left the room.

"Now, Señora Santiago, how do you feel?" asked Avila in his doctor's manner.

Since seeing Jorgé, Gracilia was feeling a little more alert and she responded in a quietly resigned voice, though she had to pause often to gather her thoughts, "You do not . . . really wish to know, Doctor Avila. I . . . thank you . . . for your kindnesses, but my . . . illness is something too far . . . beyond your abilities. I do not . . . fault you in the least."

"I am sorry, Señora, truly I am," said Avila, looking into the eyes of his patient. He thought he could see her very soul mirrored there. "There is so much we do not know, so little we can do for someone in your condition. I feel as though I have failed you." This was something which the doctor had never admitted to one of his patients before.

Gracilia took his hand in hers. "Do not . . . trouble yourself, . . . Doctor Avila. Perhaps you . . . could not . . . help me, but you have helped . . . many others. Never . . . forget them."

Avila smiled and Gracilia nodded her head graciously.

"Do you wish for any more laudanum for the journey, Señora?" he asked. "I have one more bottle here with me. I am hoping for a shipment from Mexico City within the next week, but you may have this one if you need it."

"No, . . . thank you, Doctor," said Gracilia. "I have . . . all I need. You keep what you have . . . for your patients here."

"Graciás, Señora," said Avila. He paused, not knowing what to say next.

He was spared having to make any decisions by the Magistrado's reappearance in the doorway of the bedroom. Avila stood.

"Well, Doctor?" said Santiago.

"I would rather she did not have to undertake such a long trip, Your Excellency, but I understand completely your reasons. She has enough laudanum with her for the pain and her servant woman knows how to administer it. If the trip to Monterey is taken in easy stages, she will be in extreme discomfort, but she should be able to withstand its rigors." Avila knew this for the falsehood it was. Señora Santiago would endure the journey, but she would pay dearly for every mile they covered. There was just nothing else which could be done to help her.

While they spoke, Gracilia puzzled over Doctor Avila's words. Why was she going to Monterey? She wondered just what Jorge's reasons were that she should be taking this trip to Monterey. She wished the fog in her mind would clear away so that she could try and understand more about what was happening. "Jorgé?" she called out.

"Yes, beloved? I am here." said Santiago taking her hand, suppressing a shudder at the coldness of it. "I'm sorry, my beloved, but we must get you out of danger as quickly as possible. There will be few stops along the way and you will be guarded by lancers day and night. But think of this, the quicker the journey is made, the quicker the pain will end." Turning to Doctor Avila, he said, "This is how it must be." The doctor bowed. "You may go now, Doctor. I thank you most sincerely for the care you have given my wife." Avila bowed again and took his leave.

"Danger? What danger?" Gracilia spoke softly, almost to herself, so softly that Santiago did not hear her. He was watching the doctor leaving through the front door. Then he turned back to her. He walked over to the bedside and looked down upon her. Gracilia's eyes met his and he could see the glassy look to them as a result of taking so much medicine.

Pressing his lips together, he said, "Come, Gracilia, my wife, my love. Let us go to the coach now."

Gracilia did not quite catch the mocking tone in Jorge's voice. She felt his arms reach around her as he picked her up and cradled her next to his chest. She gasped from the pain this caused her and tried to stifle a moan, but did not entirely succeed. Santiago's arms stiffened as he heard the all too familiar sound. Hastily, he began walking to the coach carrying his wife. Despite the pain, some deeper part of Gracilia was comforted by having her husband's arms around her once again. She was drawn in her memories back to the time when she and Jorgé were first married and how he had held her so lovingly then. She gave herself to the feeling. She was safe here within her husband's arms. She snuggled closer to him.

It was all Santiago could do to carry Gracilia without giving way to his own emotions. But it would not do to let even this wasted woman who lay within his arms see what was really in his heart. He must remain controlled. He must remain focused on one thing. Soon he would be free.

He walked out into the sunlit plaza and found quite a crowd gathered to watch the proceedings. Most, if not all of these people had never seen Gracilia since that first day of her arrival in the pueblo so many months ago. They were naturally curious to see the Magistrado's wife. They all knew why she was being whisked away to Monterey. Many stood with their hats in their hands out of respect to the Magistrado's wife and had come to wish her God speed. Sergeant Garcia opened the door to the coach and Santiago carried Gracilia inside and settled her upon the seat. Pippa climbed in beside her and arranged the thick blanket across Gracilia's lap, letting its folds spill down upon the floor of the coach.

Gracilia was aware only that her husband's arms had been withdrawn and she wept tears of sadness at what had been. "Jorgé?" she called, holding out her hand.

Knowing that the people were watching his every move, Santiago took Gracilia's hand gently within his own and placed a tender kiss upon it. "Now, my beloved, we must do this," he said. "I must send you to a place of safety and who better than the Governor to protect you? Now you must remember me to your uncle when you arrive in Monterey. I will miss you every day you are gone, my beloved. A messenger will be sent to you as soon as the danger is over. I will write to you every day." He kissed her hand once again and climbed down from the coach. He did not see Sergeant Garcia wiping his eyes and looking around bashfully to see if anyone had noticed.

Again, Gracilia managed to focus on the word "danger". "Danger? Jorgé, what danger?" she asked, but her voice was drowned out by Santiago giving his orders to the Sergeant.

"Sergeant Garcia. Have the lancers ride in front of the coach the whole way and keep their eyes open for anything unusual. They have the life of my wife in their hands."

"Sí, Your Excellency!" said Garcia. He went to relay the orders to the lancers and the coachman.

Santiago looked at the crowd and was pleased at the response to his display. He saw nothing but sympathy for him and his ailing wife and support for what he was doing to protect her from the outlaw, Zorro. Judge Vasca, himself, had come out of the inn to watch the proceedings. He nodded to Santiago and motioned for him to come over. They spent the next few moments talking.

Taking this opportunity, Garcia went to the coach's window and looked in. Taking off his hat, he said, "Please, Señora. I am very sorry you have to leave our pueblo, but I want to assure you my lancers will take good care of you all the way to Monterey."

Gracilia just looked at him, not seeming to comprehend all that he was saying. But she did hear the kindness in his voice and nodded as she said softly, "Thank you, Sergeant."

Garcia smiled and nodded and made as though he would leave, but then remembered something. "One moment, Señora," he said as he pulled a book from inside his coat. "Please. This is a gift to you from Don Diego de la Vega. There is a note with it." He held out the book and Pippa reached out to take it from him.

"What have you there, Sergeant?" said Santiago, taking the book from his hands.

Garcia was startled. He had not heard Santiago walk up. "Only a book, Your Excellency," he said.

"Oh? Who is it from?" asked Santiago, pulling out the note which was tucked just inside the cover. "A gift from Diego de la Vega?" he said, looking at Gracilia who gazed back at him blankly, the medicinal fog having dulled her mind again. Santiago opened the book and flipped through some of the pages. He saw Diego's marginal notes written all throughout. He read a few of them and smiled at the scholarly nature of the notations. _"We see here the contrast of the enlightened against those held in thrall by traditions,"_ he read out loud. Most of the other notations had the same tenor. He saw that Garcia and the others who had gathered around were watching him. He shrugged to himself mentally. What could it hurt? Gracilia was not long for this world in any case, nor was Diego de la Vega. He handed the book to Pippa and spoke to his wife. "It will give you something to read on your journey, my dear. Shall I extend thanks to de la Vega on your behalf?"

At the second mention of Diego's name, the fog in Gracilia's mind lifted somewhat and she said, "Yes, please do. Graciás." She glanced at Pippa, wondering about Diego's reaction to the note she had sent to him. She wrinkled her brow at some connection between her husband and Diego. Danger? Was there danger involved? Before anything could make sense, her thoughts were interrupted as Santiago spoke once again.

"Sergeant, it is time," said Santiago. His heart was beating strongly in his chest. Yes, it was indeed time. To the coach's occupants, he said, "Adios, my love. God speed your journey and keep you safe." Turning away from the coach before their eyes could meet again, he stepped back and motioned to the cochero.

"Adelante!" said Garcia, and the coach started out on its journey to Monterey led by the two lancers assigned escort duty. There were those in the crowd who waved at the coach until it was out of sight. Garcia was one of those, but he stopped when he saw the Magistrado looking at him.

"Sergeant, you may return to the cuartel," said Santiago. "It will no longer be necessary to post guards around my home."

"But Your Excellency," said Garcia. "What about Zorro?"

"I can take care of myself, Sergeant," said Santiago taking hold of the hilt of his sword for emphasis. "You and your Corporal Reyes may take the time to eat and rest before Capitán Hidalgo gives you further orders."

Garcia saluted and said, "Sí, Your Excellency." He turned and motioned for Reyes to follow him to the cuartel.

Santiago watched them go, then looked back down the road where the coach had disappeared. Using his hand to stroke his beard, he hid the gleeful smile which crossed his face. Regaining his composure, he turned to the people who remained and said, "Please, go about your business. Everything will be all right. Please, go now." He shooed them away gently as if they were sheep. Some smiled at him as they drifted away in groups of three and four, some returning to their shops or their stalls in the market place, and some going to the tavern for a drink. However, he could still see the undercurrent of fear which he had caused by the threat of his Zorro. He was well pleased.


	55. B2 Ch28: Heaven Flight

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **28 – _Heaven Flight_**

The bouncing of the coach causing her pain at every moment, Gracilia clasped her hands tightly, wringing them and trying not to cry out. However, try as she might, some sounds did escape her lips and Pippa offered her some of the laudanum, but Gracilia refused. Due to the bouncing of the coach, she did not think that she could keep it down, even if she managed to drink some of the vile potion. She just hugged herself with her arms and endured. They had been riding for not quite three hours and Gracilia did not allow herself to think about the remainder of their journey which would take days. An eternity. She looked beside her on the bench seat and her eyes fell upon the book. Where did the book come from, she wondered. "Pippa?"

"Sí, Señora?" said Pippa.

"Who gave me this book? Jorgé?"

"Oh no, Señora," said Pippa. "Do you not remember? It was sent to you by that man in the jail. Diego de la Vega."

Gracilia gathered her thoughts. "Diego? Diego sent this to me? How very nice of him," she said, fingering the book.

"There is a note in the book, Señora," said Pippa as she leaned forward and pulled it out for Gracilia to see.

Gracilia took the note and concentrated on the words written there. It was rather hard to focus, but she did her best. Her first thoughts were of the fine hand her childhood friend had developed. His style was elegant, but still very much a masculine handwriting. Finally, she was able to draw her thoughts together enough to read what had been written to her.

 _Señora Santiago,  
Perhaps this little gift of mine will not be welcome from one who has been charged as I have been, but I remembered how much you loved to read when we were children. Please accept the gift of this book. It is dry and tedious at times, but chapter eleven is filled with words and ideas which elevate the reader so that one might see with greater clarity that which is before our very eyes. Please do me the honor of accepting this humble gift as a token of my fondness for those childhood memories which we share.  
Your servant,  
Diego de la Vega _

Gracilia wondered what Diego meant by the phrase _one who has been charged as I have been . . ._ She felt that she ought to know. She realized she did know, but she just could not remember. This frustrated her. She looked at the note once more, searching for a clues, but nothing would come to her. Again, she saw the reference to chapter eleven of the book. Nothing in the note was going to help her she decided, so she picked up the book. It was one she had never seen before. Placing the book in her lap, she turned the pages slowly, noticing Diego's handwriting in the margins. She read one or two of the notations, but did not linger as she was looking for chapter eleven. Then she had it. The title to the chapter, "The Hidden Dangers of Life" made her feel uneasy. She turned over the first page of the chapter and found more of Diego's elegant handwriting. Carefully, she tried to focus upon the words. _Señora, your life is in the greatest danger, not only from Zorro but from Señor Santiago. I believe your husband intends harm to come to you as part of a plan which includes my hanging for treason, a charge against me, which I swear before God, is false. Please, you must trust my warning. If you can secretly obtain a pistol, please do so for your protection and keep it with you always. Keep Sergeant Garcia and his men close to you. Capitán Hidalgo and his men cannot be trusted as he is in league with Señor Santiago. I truly regret I cannot come to you myself. I can only send you this warning and offer my sincere prayers upon your behalf._

The words had an instant chilling affect upon her. Many things rushed back to her mind then. Now she knew what charges Diego was talking about. Jorgé must have gone through with his plans to arrest Diego de la Vega on the charges of treason. Poor, poor man. Her warning to him must have come too late. She looked at the note again. It spoke of danger to her. Danger from her husband. She shook her head for a moment, trying once again to clear the fog from her mind. Jorgé dangerous to her? She should acquire a pistol for protection? Protection from whom? Jorgé? Or someone else? Zorro perhaps? She could not comprehend everything just yet.

Suddenly a shot rang out, and one of the lancers assigned to guard the coach pitched backward off of his horse to land in the dirt by the roadside. He lay there unmoving. The other lancer pulled his own pistol and returned fire, but he, too, was taken from his horse by the force of a bullet which struck him in the chest. The lancers' horses fled riderless down the road, passing by on either side of a man shrouded in black, who held his midnight horse steady, standing his ground.

"Zorro!" cried the coachman as he hauled back on the reins sawing madly, trying to stop the coach before the lead horses overran the bandido. The horses neighed in fright and bunched together as they raggedly came to a halt.

The sudden stop pitched Pippa and Gracilia back and forth inside the coach and Pippa ended up on the floor along with the book from Gracilia's lap. Gracilia hissed from the additional pain this jolting about had caused her, but instead of blanking out, curiously her mind seemed to snap into some greater portion of clarity and she was able to ask, "What is wrong, Pippa?"

Pippa looked around fearfully and said, "Oh, Señora, the coachman says it is Zorro."

"Zorro?" said Gracilia. A certain knowledge began to form within the pit of her stomach.

Pippa crawled up so that she could peer out of the coach's window by lifting the corner of the curtain. She turned pale as she saw Zorro in the roadway ahead of them holding a smoking pistol in his hand. She also saw one of the lancers who was lying face down along the roadside. Zorro tucked the pistol into his banda and drew his sword as he came alongside the coach horses, stopping when he reached the coachman. Pippa withdrew.

"Señora, it is Zorro," she breathed fearfully. "He is just outside. I, . . . I think the soldiers are dead."

"Get down from there!" Zorro ordered the coachman, brandishing his sword.

"Sí, Señor Zorro!" said the coachman. He jumped down from the coach and backed away from the masked rider who rode forward on his dark as the night horse.

Gracilia pulled the blanket on her lap up to her throat, clutching it tightly. She could hear the voice of the outlaw as he spoke. She was chilled to her marrow to hear that rough voice which she had heard before. The voice from the sala of her own home. The voice of the man who took his orders from Jorgé. It was Uresti.

Zorro moved his horse until he was even with the window of the coach. With a flick of his wrist he used the tip of his sword to slice the curtain away so that he could look inside. He smiled.

"Greetings, Señora," he said. "A pleasant evening for a coach ride, is it not?" He looked at Pippa cowering in the far corner of the coach. "You!" he ordered in his rough voice. "Get out of the coach" Pippa did not move. "Now!" thundered Zorro as he pounded on the side of the coach with the hilt of his sword. In fear, Pippa fumbled behind her for the door handle, never taking her eyes from the outlaw. When she found it, she opened the door and almost fell to the ground as she stumbled to climb down from the side of the coach opposite the outlaw. Zorro laughed at her antics.

"Come around here where I can see you, wench," he called to her. Fearfully, Pippa came around the rear of the coach, coming to stand to the side and just behind the coachman. "Now, you two are not the game I am after," Zorro said, looking at them. "Go. Run back to Los Angeles before I change my mind." Pointing to the coach with his sword, he said, "I have what I want in there."

Pippa cried out, "Señora Gracilia! Oh, Señora!" There was no response from within the coach. "Do not harm her, Señor Zorro," Pippa pleaded with the masked man. "She is a very sick woman. She is completely helpless. Please. Let her go." Pippa wrung her hands.

"She is exactly what I want," said Zorro, with a smile. "When you next see the Magistrado, tell him I have kept my promise. Now, go. Both of you. Do not let me see you again or, . . ." Zorro brandished his sword.

Backing away, Pippa and the coachman retreated. Then they turned and ran.

Laughing, Zorro returned his attention to the only remaining occupant of the coach. He turned mockingly sympathetic. "Señora, I am afraid you have very nearly come to the end of your journey. Just a little farther and all will be over."

Gracilia knew with certainty she was going to die. Curiously, she was not afraid. That Jorgé had ordered this, there was no doubt in her mind. A man who could assure death to Diego de la Vega by framing him for treason and who could order the kidnaping of Don Alfredo's son would be capable of this as well. Poor Diego had tried to warn her, but the warning had come too late. How ironic, she thought. Her warning had come too late to help Diego and his warning had come too late to help her. She very much regretted that she had never been able to speak with Diego. She felt a strong kinship for him in their mutual troubles. "Perhaps we shall meet again on the other side of life," she thought to herself.

She found that she was tired. So very tired of this life. If her husband had truly loved her, she would have been content to live out her remaining days as she must, despite what she would have suffered. But there was no love between them. Nothing to sustain her soul through all the agony and suffering which lay ahead, and she had nothing in return to give to her husband. She knew that Jorgé wanted to be rid of the worthless woman to whom he had been shackled. She had seen it before in his dark eyes when he thought it concealed. She remembered that now with complete clarity. She raised her chin. She would oblige him then. Death would be a release from a life which held no worth for her.

She looked upon her dark executioner. She lowered to her lap the blanket which she had been clutching and slowly crossed herself. To the masked man staring at her through the window, she said, "That thou doest, do quickly."

Zorro blinked for a moment at her words. The calmness with which they were uttered struck some cord within him he could not quite identify. But he clenched his jaws. He had a job to do. It was her life or his. After all, Santiago still held all the cards and Santiago's wife was nothing to him. But he had to admit she did have a noble spirit. He dismounted and went to the front of the coach and loosened up the pin which fastened the coach horses' harness to the tongue of the coach. Then he reached up under the coachman's seat and found the pouch he knew would be there. It jingled loudly. Smiling, he tucked it into his banda.

He remounted his black horse and grabbed the bridle of the lead coach horse. Pulling, he got the horses started and the coach began moving along the road again. They left the two lancers who lay so still upon the ground far behind them as they began to pick up speed. Zorro urged the horses on until they were galloping. Then he let go of the bridle and began yelling to encourage the horses to go faster. He pulled out his whip and cracked it over their heads, popping the lead horses on the rump until they were flying down the road. Zorro pulled up then and let the coach careen down the road without him. He rode up to the top of a rise where he could watch everything. There was a sharp curve in the road just ahead, and below the road, a nearly bottomless ravine.

Gracilia braced herself against the wild rocking and swaying of the coach as well as she could. The noise of the wheels roaring on the hard, rocky road was nearly deafening. Despite all, her heart was calm as she prayed. She prayed, not for herself, but for Pippa and the coachman. And for Diego de la Vega. Of her husband, she thought of him not at all. He had made his choices and they were his to live with. The roaring of the wheels filled her world, drowning out all other sounds. Then suddenly, the coach jerked violently and an ethereal quiet descended. Gracilia had the sudden feeling as though her soul had been freed from her mortal body and that she was now beginning her feather-light flight to heaven. She closed her eyes and embraced the feeling of joy and contentment now flooding her soul.

Softly, all around her, she knew that she was hearing the welcoming whispers of sound coming from the wings of angels.

From his vantage point, Zorro watched the coach sail into the air. Everything had gone just as he had planned. The pin came loose just as the horses galloped around the curve, and the coach left the road and arced into the ravine. It began a slow, graceful tumble as it fell out of sight. Zorro listened. There was one slight noise and, after what seemed like an eternity, he heard a distant crashing sound as the coach disintegrated upon the rocks below. He rode his horse over to the edge of the ravine, right beside the tracks made by the coach where it had left the road.

As he looked down into the dark depths of the ravine, he smiled. He could see nothing, which meant the coach had gone right to the bottom. His work this evening was done and now he could return to his camp, enjoy a well deserved bottle of wine, and count his money.

Pippa and the coachman were walking along the long road back to Los Angeles when she felt the urgent need to look back. They had run until they were both exhausted, and then they had begun walking. Shading her eyes with her hand against the last rays of the setting sun, she could just make out the part of the road in the distance where it made a sharp curve next to the ravine. Then she saw it. The coach. Grabbing the coachman's arm, she pointed. "Look!" The two of them watched as Zorro lashed the coach horses to greater speed and then as he pulled up, leaving the coach to careen down the roadway. Pippa's hands went to her mouth in horror as she saw the coach sail off of the road and into the ravine. She turned and buried her face in the arms of the coachman, unable to watch any further.

The coachman held Pippa close and continued to watch. He saw the coach bounce once from a projection in the ravine's walls and then it was lost to his sight. Long moments later he heard the faintest sound of the far away crash and knew Señora Gracilia was dead. Silently he crossed himself. After another moment, he saw Zorro ride up to the edge of the ravine and look into its depths. Zorro had done this thing. He had made good on his threat to the Magistrado and had killed the Magistrado's own wife because he dared to uphold the law. They had to get word to Señor Santiago. Turning Pippa around in his arms, lending her his support, they started again on the long walk back to Los Angeles. He had to guide Pippa along the road, for her sobs of grief filled her eyes with tears and she could not see.


	56. B2 Ch29: Inferno's Brink

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **29 – _Inferno's Brink_**

Diego and Bernardo were awakened by the sound of a man calling out from beyond the cuartel gates. "Hola! In the cuartel! Open up! I must speak to Capitán Hidalgo!" There was the sound of pounding. Diego judged it to be somewhere near midnight as he came to the bars of his cell to see what was going on.

One of the sentries went into the guard box and spoke to the person through the small window there. "What is it? What do you want? Who are you?" he questioned.

"My name is Pablo Silvio. I drive the coach. Something terrible has happened and I must speak to the capitán at once!" said the voice. Diego looked at Bernardo, who had come to the bars of his cell, then back at the soldiers.

"Open the gate while I go and get the capitán," the sentry told the other soldier. He ran and knocked on Hidalgo's door while the other soldier unbarred the gates and swung them open. In the darkness, Diego could see there was a man and a woman coming into the cuartel, but he could not yet see their features. The man had his arm around the woman, seeming to be giving her physical support. In just moments, Hidalgo came out of his office with his jacket on, but unbuttoned, buckling on his sword as he walked over to the newcomers. The sentry brought a lantern with him and now Diego could see that the woman was Pippa, Gracilia's personal servant. He stopped breathing.

"Capitán!" Silvio cried out as soon as he saw the officer. "Capitán, it is terrible, just terrible!"

"What is it?" demanded Hidalgo. "Speak up man!"

"Oh, Capitán! It was Zorro! He attacked us near sunset and shot both soldiers dead!" Diego was unable to move as he listened to the coachman. Silvio continued. "He, . . . he forced the two of us to leave. He made us leave Señora Santiago behind. He whipped the coach horses and sent the coach flying over the edge of the road down into the depths of the ravine! Señora Santiago was still in the coach!"

"She is dead!" Pippa screamed frantically. "She is dead! It was so horrible! Zorro has killed her!" She buried her face in the coachman's chest and wept anew while he held onto her.

Diego was staggered. Stumbling, he took several involuntary steps backwards before he bumped into his bed and fell back against it. "Dead?" he whispered. "She is dead?" His worst fears for her had come true. Santiago had carried out his threat made through the person of the false Zorro and had killed his own wife in cold blood by means of that same human instrument. Whatever the reasons for her death, there was no doubt in Diego's mind that Santiago was responsible. Diego's heart just could not comprehend what kind of man it was who could do such a heinous thing. Gracilia was such a gentle woman, so helpless in her illness, a threat to no one. Why had she been marked for death? No one with honor could do such a vile thing and call himself a man.

 _And no one with honor could know about the threat to her and do nothing,_ came Diego's next bitter thought. He looked at the bars of his cell. He could have found a way to break free from this confinement. He could have done something to save her. But no, he had stayed here. And now she was dead. "I should have done something," he said softly. "I should have . . . done . . . something . . . ." His hands closed into tight fists.

Bernardo reached through the bars of his cell and put his hand on his young friend's shoulder to offer what sympathy he could. He could guess at the tenor of Diego's thoughts. He knew his young master well. As unique as Diego was, as legendary as his exploits as Zorro were, Bernardo knew that Diego was just a man. An extraordinary man, but just a man. And now he was tearing himself apart because he could not be more than he was. He was chained to his cell, not by the iron bars between him and his freedom, but by the very real threat to his father's life. He loved his father beyond measure and was willing to lay down his life on his father's behalf, but in so doing, he felt that he had cost Gracilia her life. That was just not so, but Bernardo did not think Diego would "listen" to him right now. Bernardo sighed.

As Diego continued to sit on his bed, staring sightless at the floor of his cell, Bernardo saw that the Capitán had ordered out the soldiers, and a company of them were preparing to mount their horses. He could see through the open gate of the cuartel that lights were coming on all over the pueblo as the noise of the commotion reached the homes. Hidalgo, himself, had taken the coachman and Pippa over to Santiago's house to deliver the news. People were starting to gather in the plaza, wondering what was going on. It was not long before someone recognized the coachman and Pippa and knew what the fact of her being back in the pueblo without her mistress must mean. Rumors went flying through the plaza.

Santiago peered through the crack in the curtains as he watched the proceedings in the plaza. He let the curtain fall back into place as Hidalgo and the two people with him approached. His house was dark just as it should be for someone who was supposed to be asleep. He was wearing his bed robe and his hair was carefully tousled. He let several moments pass after Hidalgo knocked on the door. Just as Hidalgo was starting to knock the second time, he opened the door. "Yes? What is it, Capitán? What is wrong?" he asked. He noticed with satisfaction the crowd of people which had gathered behind Hidalgo and his witnesses.

"Oh, Señor!," Pippa cried out, but Hidalgo waved her into silence.

Drawing himself up, Hidalgo said, "Your Excellency, I am sorry to be the bearer of grave tidings. But the coachman and the servant woman have returned to report that your wife, Señora Santiago, has been killed by the outlaw Zorro."

A gasp went through the crowd. "Zorro!" said several people at once. They looked around fearfully.

Santiago knew he must play the role of the grief stricken husband, but inside he was ecstatic. Gracilia was dead! How enormously satisfying that was. But now . . . "My Gracilia killed, you say?" he said with some shock. "How? When?"

Hidalgo turned to the coachman. Coming forward with his hat in his hands, Silvio repeated his story with Santiago asking questions here and there so everyone present could be sure and know the whole story. Still crying, Pippa confirmed everything.

Santiago turned to the crowd. "My friends. You will excuse me if, . . . if I need some time to be alone now." He let his voice break. "You understand do you not? At the moment, this event has saddened me beyond my ability to express." The people nodded.

"Of course, Magistrado," said Hidalgo, taking his cue. "All right, everyone. Go home now. Go home." He motioned the crowd away. They left slowly, looking back at the Magistrado who was wiping a tear from his eyes. Hidalgo said, "Magistrado. I myself, will go to the scene and retrieve Señora Santiago's poor remains from the ravine along with those of the soldiers. Then tomorrow we will begin an even more intense search for the murderous outlaw, Zorro."

"Graciás, Capitán," said Santiago. "Now you will please excuse me?" He stepped back inside the house and with his head bowed low, he closed the door firmly. Once inside, he could not help it. He laughed. Not the maniacal laugh of one who has become giddy with success, but the deeply satisfying laugh of one who was genuinely happy. Putting his hands in the pockets of his bed robe, he walked over to Gracilia's bedroom and stood in the doorway looking in. The room was empty. It was wonderfully silent. There were none of the moanings and thrashings which had plagued Gracilia these last months. He searched himself for some sign of sorrow at her passing and found that he could find none. She was gone and would never be back to interfere with his life's ambitions. All he felt was relief. He was free. He was free to choose another women to be his wife, or rather, one woman in particular. He had set his sights on Leonar, the Governor's daughter. One way or another, he would have her for a wife and she would bear him many children. This would cement his relations with the Governor and the alliance would bring added prestige to him. Of course, all of this would take some time. A proper amount of mourning was required for the dearly departed Gracilia. He must not rush things. But he had the patience to wait for the proper time. Just as he had the patience to see to the ruin of Alejandro de la Vega. He indulged himself for a few minutes as he thought about his future. He laughed again.

Unknown to him, Pippa had slipped into the back of the house. She had nowhere else to go and was hoping to stay in one of the back rooms for the night. She would not sleep in the room so recently vacated by her mistress, . . . God rest her soul. Pippa paused in the darkness of the corridor when she saw the silhouette of Señor Santiago standing in the doorway to Gracilia's room. She felt sorry for him, but then her blood chilled as she heard the man laugh to himself. She had known that Santiago was a cold man, but had never imagined this. That there had been no love between Santiago and Gracilia had been evident for some time, but this, . . . this laughter made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She quickly moved into the back room and shut the door, careful to make no sounds at all. She did not want Santiago to know she was in the house. Turning the key in the lock, she looked around in the darkness. She could just make out the old chair in the corner of the room. Pippa sat down and pulled her feet up on it, curling up to fit. She began snuffling again, holding the corner of her skirt to her face to muffle the sounds and to wipe her tears. She did not know what she was going to do now. Señora Gracilia was dead and Señor Santiago seemed happy about it. How could she stay here? Her only job had been to care for Señora Gracilia, she had no other work. Surely Señor Santiago did not want her? What was she to do? She had no answers to her problems. As the dark night lingered on and despite her fears for her future, she finally succumbed to her exhaustion at last, falling asleep in the hours before the dawn.

Diego did not find sleep this night. He kept coming back over and over to the singular point that he should have done something more to save Gracilia from Santiago. After all, he knew what kind of man Santiago was even if no one else in the whole of California did. Up until this time, Diego, or his alter ego, Zorro, had never been in this position. Always before, if he had some clue that something sinister was afoot, he had been able to stop it, or at least deflect it before anyone innocent was harmed. He had foiled the plans of many men. But this time, he had reason to know Santiago was capable of carrying out the threat to Gracilia and he had done almost nothing. The note he sent to her had clearly been inadequate. He should have been there.

Bernardo stayed up with Diego, knowing his master's turmoil. Finally, he had to try to say something. The guard was sleeping on his feet and would not hear if they were quiet. He moved closer to the bars and tapped Diego on the arm. When Diego looked up, he began to sign. At first, Diego looked away, not wanting to "listen". But Bernardo persisted and finally Diego watched. Translated, what he said was this: _Of course you could have found a way out of here and could have gone to save Señora Gracilia. No one could have prevented it if that is what you wished to do. You are El Zorro._ Diego's eyes hardened and he clenched his jaws. Bernardo continued. _But you are also Diego._ Diego looked at him curiously. _The Magistrado has directly threatened your father. The father whom you love very much. So much so that you are willing to die rather than see him harmed. You did the only thing you could do in trying to warn Señora Santiago. Even that could have caused the death of your father had it fallen into the wrong hands. If you should have saved Señora Santiago while at the same time causing the death of your father, would your pain be any the less?_ Diego had to admit to himself that it would not. Bernardo signed again. _You did the only thing you could as Diego de la Vega._

"And if I had chosen to be Zorro?" Diego asked with some bitterness.

 _Your father would now be dead,_ came the blunt response. _The Magistrado would have seen to that before you ever reached Señora Santiago. He has eyes everywhere. He knows your every move. Protect Señora Santiago and your father dies. Protect your father as you did by remaining here and Señora Gracilia dies. You could not protect both of them at the same time. No one can fault you for what has happened._

Diego was silent. Everything Bernardo said was correct, but it did not make it any easier to accept.

Bernardo had one more thing to say. _It is against Señor Santiago you should direct your anger. He has done this to you, your father, Don Alfredo, Señora Gracilia, and who knows how many others. You should not crucify yourself for what he has caused to happen. Focus your anger upon Señor Santiago, not upon yourself._

Diego nodded thoughtfully. Yes, Santiago was the root cause of all the turmoil. He was the one who was orchestrating this whole malicious affair. Santiago was different from all the others who had come before him. He was intelligent, cunning, finely subtle, a good actor. But most of all, he was patient. He had the patience of the hidden serpent who lay in wait for his prey until the time was right to strike. And, like the serpent, he was ruthless and cold. He would have to be ruthless and cold in order to have his own wife killed as she had been. Diego realized Santiago would have even less compunction about killing his father if it suited his plans. Santiago's threat to his father's life was very, very real. With this sobering thought, he looked at Bernardo.

Softly, he said, "Graciás, my friend. You have helped me. You are right, Señor Santiago is the enemy. May God grant that no one else beyond ourselves has to pay such a price for his plans." Bernardo nodded. "But, by the Saints, I want to know why. Why is he doing all of this?" Bernardo could only shrug. Diego looked out over the compound. "Somehow, some way, I will find out, Bernardo," he said.

Bernardo could hear the commitment in his young friend's voice. As he looked around, he wondered just how Diego was going to accomplish this from his prison. He had no answers. He could now see the first tinge of pink on the eastern horizon. The sun would soon be up. It had taken Bernardo a very long time to say all that he had to say to Diego. Certain concepts were very hard to express visually. But even in the darkness of their cells, Diego had understood him. There had never been anyone else in his life to whom Bernardo could "talk" on this level and hope to be understood completely. Once again, he thanked the heavens he had been chosen by Diego to be his servant. Diego had chosen him to be his servant, but also named him "friend". That meant more to Bernardo than any amount of riches. If he had to die, he would consider it a privilege and an honor to die by his master's side.


	57. B2 Ch30: No Answers

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 2**

 **Chapter** **30 – _No Answers_**

It was Sunday morning. As usual, the church opened its doors and rang the bell to call the faithful to the services. They came in ones and twos, gathering in larger groups to talk about the events of the previous evening. Lozano was there to listen and to ask leading questions, increasing the uneasiness of those assembled. Many were sorrowful concerning Señora Santiago's death though very few of them had ever seen her during her time in Los Angeles. Everyone was frightened of El Zorro.

None of the people had entered the church as yet. Señor Santiago had come to the church early and everyone could see from the open door that he was with one of the priests, kneeling in earnest prayer at the front of the church. They did not wish to disturb his prayers out of respect to his bereavement. When Don Alejandro rode into the pueblo, he could see the gathering of the people in front of the church. He had almost decided not to come to the services, but he had at last decided he could not stay home. Despite his son's accusal and impending trial, Don Alejandro still had an important position in the pueblo and would keep up appearances. It would be far worse not to come to the services and know that the people were talking about him behind his back. He dismounted and tied his horse to the railing, becoming uneasy as silence descended upon those around him. As he turned to look, he could see everyone was watching him. There were no welcoming smiles among the people, only long, sad faces edged with fear.

Seeing Don Antonio and his wife, Don Alejandro went over to them. "Antonio," he said. "What is wrong? Why does not everyone go into the church for the service?"

"Have you not heard, Don Alejandro?" said Don Antonio. "The Magistrado's wife was killed last evening by El Zorro. The Magistrado is in the church praying. We wait because of him."

Lozano had noticed Don Alejandro ride up and had moved into position to hear everything. He knew the Magistrado would want a full report later.

"Señora Santiago is dead?" gasped Don Alejandro. "This cannot be so."

"I am afraid that it is," said Don Antonio. "The coachman and the senora's servant woman returned last night to tell of how Zorro killed the soldiers and then killed Señora Santiago." At these words, Don Antonio's wife began to weep and he encircled her with his arms to comfort her.

Lozano chose that moment to speak. "Zorro carried out his threat against the Magistrado for daring to conduct the trial of Diego de la Vega." Seeing Don Alejandro's flaring look, he raised his hands. "I speak no more than the truth, Señor. The Magistrado did not back down and set your son free. His dear wife has paid the price."

As if in response to his words, a cry came from the back of the crowd. "They are coming! The soldiers are returning!" The crowd turned to see the entourage of soldiers accompanying two wagons. One wagon contained the body of Señora Santiago and the other one contained the bodies of the two lancers. Slowly the procession made its sad way across the plaza, coming to a halt in front of the church. Capitán Hidalgo dismounted.

"Where is Señor Santiago?" he asked gruffly.

Someone in the crowd indicated the church, "He is in the church, Capitán. Praying with the priest."

Removing his hat, Hidalgo glanced once more at the small, shrouded body in the wagon next to him, then turned and went into the church leaving everyone to peer through the door after him. He went to the front of the sanctuary and spoke quietly with Santiago and the priest. Then the three of them walked out of the church. Santiago walked solemnly over to the wagon holding the body of his wife and paused to look silently at her shrouded figure. No one in the crowd spoke a word out of profound respect for his loss.

Don Alejandro felt the lump growing in his own throat as he watched the Magistrado. Despite his own problems with Diego's impending trial, he could truly sympathize with the Magistrado's loss. The sense of loss for his own dear Isabella resurfaced. He knew what it was to lose a beloved spouse. He stepped forward.

"Your Excellency," he said, with a voice choked with emotion. He noticed the red rimmed eyes as the Magistrado turned to him. "Your Excellency, may I offer my most sincere sympathy in your time of loss? Words are poor instruments to convey the sorrow we all feel at this time. Your loss is our own."

Many in the crowd held their breath to see what the Magistrado's reaction would be. Here, the father of the man accused of being a co-conspirator with the murderer of Señora Santiago was offering his sympathy. Would Santiago react in anger, lashing out verbally, or would he do something else? After all, he still wore a sword by his side.

Santiago looked at Don Alejandro in silence for a few moments. Then he bowed slightly and said, "I thank you for your sentiments, Señor de la Vega. As one man who has lost his wife to another, I know your sympathy is genuine." He looked around and saw the surprise on the faces of those in the crowd. He could see that many had expected him to have harsh words for the father of Diego de la Vega. But he would show them he was above all of that. He would show, once again, what a man of honor he was. To Don Alejandro, he said, "Your pardon, Señor?" He walked up to the top steps of the church and paused to address the crowd. He was pleased to see Judge Vasca standing to one side, having come to pay his respects, as well.

"My friends and fellow citizens. The traitor, Zorro, has murdered my wife to try and stop me from conducting the trial against his fellow conspirator, Diego de la Vega. Let it be known that I do not hold this man here," he pointed at Don Alejandro, "in any way responsible for what has happened." Don Alejandro looked around, somewhat self conscious. "Don Alejandro is an honorable man, a true patriot, and loyal subject of the King. My poor Gracilia is dead and the sole author of her death is the outlaw, Zorro. Let us not lose sight of that." There were murmurs in the crowd as they agreed with the Magistrado.

Santiago continued. He pointed at Don Alejandro again, "I do not wish to cause this man any more pain, no more than he would wish it upon me, but I must do my duty as an officer in the service of His Majesty and prosecute the accused traitor now in our jail. We will let the evidence speak for itself and allow Judge Vasca to make the final judgement. I know Don Alejandro would have it no other way as he is a man of honor." He looked kindly at Don Alejandro and the older man looked back at him. The elder de la Vega had nothing to say.

Turning back to the crowd, Santiago let his voice become stronger. "Let it be known to anyone in this assembly who is also in league with the outlaw Zorro, I will not desist. I _will_ conduct this trial. Nothing short of my own death will stop me." He paused for effect and saw the admiration for him growing among those in the crowd. Then he turned and looked sorrowfully at the small body lying in the back of the wagon. "And now, . . . please. Allow us to conduct the remains of my beloved wife and these other two brave souls," he indicated the dead lancers in the other wagon, "into the church, for we would offer our prayers for them and for ourselves." Santiago stepped back and bowed his head as if he could speak no more.

Hidalgo directed his lancers to dismount and carry the shrouded bodies of the soldiers into the church. He, himself, carried the body of Señora Santiago. He found himself remembering another time, another place, when he had carried the body of his own beloved wife into the church in Santa Barbara. He was reliving that time as he solemnly carried the blanket wrapped body into the church on this quiet morning. He did not know exactly why Santiago had sentenced his own wife to die at the hands of Uresti. That was not his business. His business was to obey Santiago's orders. But this, . . . this was such a cold, inhuman act that, despite himself, Hidalgo shuddered. He thought of himself as a hardened soldier who had done many unsavory things in his career, even to the killing of his share of men, but he had never done anything like this. The sooner he could get out from under the thumb of the Magistrado the better, he thought to himself. But he knew there was no way out. Not as long as Santiago held the information which tied him to the Eagle.

Gently, he laid the shrouded body on the table being placed in front of the alter. He looked down upon it for a moment, adjusting the blanket one last time, just as he had so many years ago for his own beloved wife. "Maria," he breathed softly as he thought of her. He missed her still. Then, returning to the present and realizing where he was, Hidalgo straightened his shoulders and stepped back to join the other mourners coming into the church. As the service progressed, Hidalgo watched the very saddened Magistrado as he put on the performance of his life as the mournful husband of the dead woman.

The bells in the tower overhead began to toll, the somber sounds of their voices rolling over the pueblo and the lands beyond. Everyone filed into the church for the service, including Don Alejandro. Later, the body of Gracilia would be dressed and prepared for the proper burial which was her due. She and the soldiers would be buried before the sun set on this day. Hidalgo turned out the lancers to be the pall bearers and the escort to the cemetery. Grimly, he had put all thoughts of his own wife behind and attended to the matters of the present with determined efficiency. Maria was dead and buried and soon Señora Santiago would be interred in the ground as well. He had a job to do, and that was all he would think about now. There was the trial to come and he must be attentive to Santiago's orders and carry them out flawlessly. But his once firm admiration of Santiago's cunning had turned. The Magistrado was really no different than the Eagle, just more efficient.

All of the lancers forming the escort had their muskets with them and no one questioned the necessity. Zorro was still at large, was he not? There was still the danger of attack against the Magistrado or Judge Vasca to disrupt the trial of Diego de la Vega. The processional to the cemetery was filled with almost everyone from the pueblo as they wished to pay their last respects. As the procession wound through the town, more than one uneasy person looked over his shoulder, looking for anyone riding in who might be wearing a dark mask. Soon, the only ones left in the pueblo were the prisoners and their guards, Garcia and Reyes among them, and one or two Indians.

After a time, Garcia walked over to the cells to speak to Diego. He would have gone to the funeral himself, but Hidalgo had ordered him to see to the security of the cuartel and the prisoners. He was very saddened by the death of Señora Santiago and remembered how he had spoken to her only the day before. He shook his head. It seemed like so very long ago, and yet, at the same time it, seemed such a short while since he had sent the coach on its way. He sighed in his sadness at her passing. He was also saddened at the death of his lancers. Capitán Hidalgo had insisted that he send two of his men with the coach instead of assigning any of the men who had come with him from Santa Barbara. A soldier's life was filled with the possibility of death at any moment, but it was never easy to lose men of your company, especially men for whom you were responsible. As he reached the cells, Garcia motioned the guards away and this time they went without protest. They walked over to the well and drew a bucket of cool water for a drink.

Diego came to the bars of his cell. "Oh, Don Diego," said Garcia in sad tones. "It is bad business, this killing of the Señora Santiago."

"Indeed it is, Sergeant," said Diego. He eyed the other guards closely, but he knew they were still near enough to hear everything that was said. There was not much chance of saying anything to Garcia which would help his position or to cast any doubt on Santiago.

"Why would Zorro do such a thing, Don Diego?" Garcia asked. "Never before has he done such a thing as this. Come to think of it, he has never done so many bad things like he is doing now."

Diego could only shrug. Of course he knew why such things were happening. Not the ultimate purpose perhaps, but he knew the root cause: Santiago. "Perhaps he is different?" he ventured. He glanced at the guards, but they had no reaction to his words. This emboldened Diego a bit.

"Different? What do you mean, Don Diego?" asked Garcia, clearly puzzled.

"Well, . . . consider that the real Zorro disappeared almost a year ago and then a man claiming to be Zorro appears and he does not act the same as Zorro did before. What does that suggest to you?" Diego looked hopefully at Garcia, willing him to draw the right conclusion.

"I do not know, Don Diego. What does it mean?"

Diego tried to keep from showing his dismay. At times, Sergeant Garcia could put two and two together, surprising everyone, then, at other times, he had to be dragged to the proper conclusion inch by inch. This would seem to be one of those times. "That, just maybe, he is not the same man?" he offered.

"Not the same man, Don Diego?" said Garcia, thinking hard for a long time. "I don't know. I have chased him, Don Diego. He looks the same. He wears the same mask and the same hat and the same cape. His voice is a little different, he looks a little heavier, and his horse is not so fast as the old one, but everyone who sees him thinks he is Zorro." Garcia looked at Diego. "Don't you think he is Zorro, Don Diego? You were with him in Santa Barbara."

Diego knew Garcia was not being coy with him. His was the innocent question of a man without guile. Again, he glanced at the guards and saw they were now paying quite close attention to what was being said. His narrow window of opportunity with Garcia was closed. He sighed. "I cannot say, Sergeant," was his only comment.

Garcia looked a little embarrassed and said, "Your pardon, Don Diego. I did not mean . . . ." He trailed off.

Diego smiled gently and said, "It is all right, Sergeant. Do not concern yourself."

The sounds of the soldiers returning from the funeral interrupted them. "Excuse me, Don Diego," said Garcia as he hurried over to the office to present himself to Capitán Hidalgo who had just come into the cuartel. The soldiers disbursed as they were dismissed. Diego's guards repositioned themselves at their posts, giving him no more than a glance. Diego knew that everything he said to Garcia would be reported, but he had little fear that there would be reprisals. He just had not had enough time or freedom to get anywhere with the Sergeant. It was at times like these he wished his portly friend's mental acuity was enough to pick up on such clues as Diego could give him. But alas, that was not how things were. Garcia was Garcia and there was nothing which could be done about that.

Night fell, and the pueblo, quiet from the solemn events of the day, grew quieter still. No one was about as they were all afraid of what Zorro might do. Although Santiago eschewed having any soldiers assigned to guard him, he made sure Judge Vasca was well guarded and that the soldiers were clearly visible from the walls of the cuartel. He also posted guards at every road leading into the pueblo. He wanted all the people to know that everything possible was being done to make sure that the trial set for the next morning was going to take place. There was only one more thing to do before then and that was to visit Diego de la Vega.

Santiago walked over to the cuartel and was quickly admitted. Hidalgo met him at the steps of the office and they spoke in low tones. As they turned to walk over to the cells, Hidalgo picked up a lantern and brought it with them, its soft glow casting a moving pool of light at their feet. Santiago dismissed the guards and they headed toward the barracks. Diego came to stand at the front of his cell. He did not speak, waiting for Santiago to make the first move. Bernardo came to stand as close as he could to Diego from the confines of his cell. In the shadowy light from the lantern, Santiago's dark eyes were fathomless pools of blackness. Bernardo had to repress a shudder. Santiago looked both of them over, then turned his full attention to Diego.

"Diego, my young friend, your time is at hand," he began. "Tomorrow morning you will be brought before Judge Vasca upon charges of conspiracy and treason. Until now, your conduct has been most exemplary. You have done everything I have asked of you. And for this, your father is still a free man." His voice hardening, Santiago continued. "But I warn you again. Do nothing to defend yourself against these charges. Make no accusations, bring no evidence on your behalf or your father will suffer the consequences. Do what I tell you or there will be another new grave in the cemetery besides yours."

Diego could not help himself. "Just as there is a new grave in the cemetery for Señora Gracilia?" he said with bitterness. Bernardo darted a glance at Diego. This was dangerous.

"Ah," said Santiago. "What do you think you know about that?"

"Enough to know she died at _your_ command, Señor Magistrado."

Santiago looked at Hidalgo. "I have always maintained that Diego was an intelligent young man, Capitán. Completely naive, but intelligent." Hidalgo bowed to acknowledge Santiago's statements. Santiago smiled and turned back to Diego. "If it pleases you to believe that Diego, then who am I to contradict you?" he asked in mocking tones. Both men knew that this was as far as he would go in admitting the truth. But both men knew that truth. Diego could only clench his jaws.

"Perhaps my dear wife's departure from this life will serve to convince you of my sincerity regarding your father's future," said Santiago.

Thinking that Gracilia had been killed as some sort of terrible example to him, Diego said with some horror, "You did not have to kill the señora to insure my compliance."

Santiago turned back to Hidalgo and said, "See? Intelligent, but naive." Hidalgo nodded, but said nothing. To Diego, Santiago said, "Do not flatter yourself to think that everything that happens pertains to you. Just concern yourself with what you must do to insure the safety of your father. That is all that is required of you now."

Relieved, but most certainly not comforted, Diego said, "Please. I beg of you. Answer just one question for me, Señor Magistrado. You say that I am to die in order that my father might continue to live. If I am to die, I should at least know why." He gripped the bars of his cell tightly. "Please tell me why."

Santiago laughed. "Diego, there are some things in life for which we are never given the answers, some things which remain a mystery to the end. I am afraid that this is one of them." He and Hidalgo shared mocking laughter as they saw the look on Diego's face. Santiago sobered and said, "Enough. I did not come here to find entertainment at your expense, Diego. I merely came here to remind you of the price of your failure if you do not do as I say." He looked closely at Diego.

Diego raised his chin. "If I must die so that my father might live, then that is how it shall be," he said solemnly. "But how do I know you will keep your part of the bargain, Señor Magistrado?"

"Bargain? Who said anything about a bargain, Diego?" said Santiago, holding his hands out. "Your death will set many things in motion and it pleases me to leave your father among the living. That is all. But I do not love your father so much that he will not swing beside you if you should not comply with my wishes."

Inside, Diego was seething. He wanted nothing more than to step out of the cell he was in and take on Santiago with swords or knives or just bare fists. The knuckles on his hands turned white as they gripped the bars of his cell. Unnoticed by everyone, Bernardo was becoming very alarmed. There had been several times in the past when he had to restrain his young master when a wiser course of action was needed. But here, now, he could do nothing but hope. His hope was realized as Diego could see the death of his father written in those so very dark eyes of the Magistrado. Bernardo saw Diego take hold of himself and make himself stand down. Silently he sighed in relief.

Santiago, too, saw the tide rise and fall in Diego's person. His own body had instinctively responded, . . . preparing for what? An attack? He wondered at the deep fire he had seen in Diego's eyes for that brief moment. So unlike his young deputy. He snorted to himself and eased his grip on the hilt of his sword. What threat could Diego be to him? The man did not know how to handle a sword nor any other weapon, and besides, he was behind bars, guarded by soldiers twenty-four hours a day. Still, he found the young man's reaction disquieting for reasons he could not understand. But again, enough. It was time to go.

"Come, Capitán," he said. "I am sure Diego knows what is required of him and I am sure he will comply, for I am very sure he knows that he holds his father's life in his hands." Santiago smiled as he could see this was so. "I bid you good night, Diego. Rest well. Tomorrow should prove to be . . . shall we say, . . . quite a trying day?" Laughing, Santiago turned and walked away from Diego's cell. Hidalgo followed, still carrying the lantern. As they reached the well, Santiago paused, raising his hand to stop Hidalgo. "Capitán, your men are still searching for Uresti, are they not?"

"Sí, Magistrado," said Hidalgo. "I told them not to return unless they had Zorro with them."

In the darkness of his cell, Diego turned to look at Bernardo. The mozo had heard as well. It would seem that the imposter's name was Uresti.

"What areas have you told them to search?" asked Santiago.

"They have returned to search the place where the coach left the road. I told them to make a circle one mile across to look for any signs of the outlaw."

"Are any of them experienced trackers?"

"No, Your Excellency. I kept Fuentes here in the cuartel. I believe the others will find nothing," said Hidalgo. "Your man hides his trail well. He is almost as good as the stories I have heard of the real Zorro."

"Almost?" said Santiago in amusement.

"Sí, Your Excellency," said Hidalgo with smile. "I have heard that the real Zorro was able to disappear without a trace, vanish into the winds. But Uresti needs to remember that his horse needs a new shoe. If you will recall, even the stupid Corporal assigned to this cuartel found his track out there in the hills."

"Sí," said Santiago, nodding. "I will have Lozano attend to it presently. For now though, I think I will give Uresti permission to visit that little señorita of his down in San Pedro once de la Vega's trial is over. He has performed well, and it is time to reward him. He has been champing at the bit for weeks now." Santiago chuckled. "Who would have thought that a tough man like Uresti would go all soft for a little bar maid named Lolita, eh? I almost think that if it came down to a choice between me or his bar maid, Lolita just might win out." Hidalgo smiled back at Santiago. "I will let out his chain far enough so he can be with her for a couple of weeks, then I will pull him back in. There is still more work for El Zorro to do for me."

"Will he comply, do you think, Magistrado?" asked Hidalgo. "He strikes me as being rather like a headstrong bull."

"Ah, but I have a ring in the nose of our bull," said Santiago. "Let us not forget he shares a common background with you, my dear Capitán. You both carried an eagle's feather in your past."

Hidalgo involuntarily reached up to rub his nose as he thought for a moment. Seeing this, Santiago smiled. "Come now, Capitán. You are not a bull like Uresti. You are more like the wolf. Fierce and strong, but you know who leads the pack. And as long as you do, we will get along just fine."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Hidalgo in more serious tones. He did not like to be reminded of his indebtedness to Santiago. And he remembered Señora Santiago.

"As long as your men do not stumble on Zorro, things will go just as I have planned," said Santiago. "Send someone out in the morning to find them and have them return to the pueblo. I want every man posted around the town in a great show of arms to let the people know I am committed to their safety. It will also impress upon them the seriousness of the threat of Zorro against my conducting the trial. They will be all the more impressed when the trial is finished and de la Vega is convicted despite the danger."

"Sí, Magistrado. It will be done just as you order," said Hidalgo. Santiago nodded once, and then Hidalgo escorted him to the gates of the cuartel. Once the Magistrado was gone, Hidalgo called for two more guards to be posted by the prisoners' cells. Two of Hidalgo's men came running and took up their posts. Satisfied, Hidalgo went into his quarters, shutting the door behind him.

In the near darkness, Diego and Bernardo went to the back of their respective cells and sat down on their beds. Diego leaned over and Bernardo came closer. Through the bars, in a very low voice, Diego said, "Did you hear? Santiago was talking about the false Zorro. Apparently the imposter's name is Uresti." Bernardo nodded. "And he has a lady friend in San Pedro. Someone named Lolita," mused Diego. "I think I know her." At Bernardo's look, Diego shook his head, "No, I do not mean I 'know' her. I mean I think I have seen her at the little tavern there. Perhaps that is where the imposter was when we were looking for him in the hills." Bernardo shook his head and made the motion for Santiago, then acted like a chain was in his nose as he was pulled along. "You are right, Bernardo. Santiago has a close hold on him. This Uresti was an Eagle's man and that would give someone in the Magistrado's position great power over him. All those who worked for the Eagle were automatically condemned to death. And one more thing. Santiago intimated that even Capitán Hidalgo once worked for the Eagle. Do you suppose that all the men who work for Santiago are former minions of the Eagle?" Bernardo made the sign for Tomaso and speculated that he was also one of the Eagle's men. Diego nodded thoughtfully. "Apparently, our dear Magistrado has gathered around him many men from the Eagle's brood over whose heads he holds the threat of exposure. They would do anything for him rather than be hanged."

Diego sighed. "But none of this does us any good. It only confirms that Santiago has planned this whole thing out very carefully. I was just so blind not to see any of it." Diego leaned back against the wall at the head of his bed as he stared out into the cuartel yard. It was going to be another long night. There was nothing left to say or to do. He would just have to face the charges with as much dignity as he could tomorrow at the trial and pray that Santiago meant what he said about keeping his father alive. It was the only option open to him. He was sure, just as Bernardo had pointed out, that any attempt on his part to do anything to defend himself or make any motion to escape would bring instant death to his father. Santiago would not even wait to have charges brought against Don Alejandro before killing him. He could then bring up his fabricated charges at his leisure in order to justify his actions and he would be believed, such was his reputation with the people.

Sadly, Diego gazed upward, searching for the moon. However, its familiar light was obscured by a bank of dark clouds; clouds that mirrored his soul.

* * *

 **END OF BOOK 2**

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NEXT is BOOK 3: Trials


	58. B3 Ch1: The Trial Begins

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

 **Accountholder's Note:** Here begins BOOK 3 of Treason's revelation, the ' **Trials** ' book.

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 ** _Summary BOOK 3 (Trials)_ : **_The Trial is beginning. The trap has been sprung and Diego de la Vega is to be judged for treason and conspiracy with the murderous rogue Zorro. With the depth of the scheme only starting to reveal itself, the evidence stacked against him, his father on the line and his only ally behind bars next to him Diego is left with no way to defend himself. The plots of the magistrado seem set to lead him straight to the gallows. Still… Diego de la Vega is the fox and even now, as he's being forced follow the scenario his enemy has laid out for him, he should never be underestimated. But with his determination to submit to his sentencing... what will be the outcome of the coming trials?_

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 **BOOK 3**

 **Chapter 1 – _The Trial Begins_**

Don Alejandro was not sure he had slept at all during the night. He rose well before the sun and sat on the side of his bed, just staring into the predawn darkness. He had tossed and turned all night with the question of whether he would attend the trial today or not. He was still hurt and angry at Diego's silence. He just could not understand why Diego would not answer his questions. Did Diego not know that he only wanted to help? That he wanted to find something to prove to the Magistrado that Diego was innocent of the charges against him? Diego claimed with great sincerity that he was innocent. If that was so, why would he not let his own father help him? It was more than Don Alejandro could comprehend. One of the clarion points of honor in the de la Vega lineage was that you could count on those in your family to come to your aid in times of trouble, no matter the cost. Diego certainly knew this. He had been told the stories over and over, and had his father and grandfather as examples. Yet now, he turned his back upon his own father.

The turning point in Don Alejandro's mind came when he realized that the trial was possibly the only place where he could find some of the answers he was seeking. He would listen to the evidence given in the trial and see what Diego would say in his defense. Surely his son would defend himself. If he did not, . . . then he would face the gallows and find death at the end of a common coil of rope. Surely Diego knew this. Surely his son did not wish to die?

At last, Don Alejandro got up and dressed himself in his finest black suit with the gold braid. He had no desire for any breakfast and was curt with the servants who kept out of his way. None of them took offense with this. All of the servants knew about the trial and knew how it was affecting the patrón. They knew the love that the older don had for his only son and how this trial was tearing him apart. They spoke in low tones, sharing the pity they had for Don Alejandro and the disbelief that Diego could be involved in such a terrible thing as treason.

Crescensia and Old Juan watched Don Alejandro from the door of the kitchen as he had one of the vaqueros saddle his horse. Without a word, he mounted and rode out of the yard. Crescencia adamantly maintained that Diego was as innocent as he claimed to be. She had known him since he was a child, and there was nothing anyone could say which would convince her otherwise. However, she, like others, was at a loss to explain why Diego had no defense against the charges and why he would not talk with his father. Leaving the others, she went to the little shrine she kept in her room and lit the candle for Don Diego. Putting another candle beside the first, she lit this one for Don Alejandro.

Don Alejandro rode to the top of the hill overlooking the hacienda and the de la Vega lands. The sun was coming up over the hills and the warm yellow tones bathed the world in soft light. Don Alejandro saw the beauty of the morning, but took no joy in it. He rode to the little graveyard at the top of the hill and dismounted. Leaving his horse, he walked over to the grave so carefully tended these last years since Isabella's death. With his head bowed, he gazed at the stone monument marking her grave for long moments. Then he raised his head and looked around, taking in the rolling vista of the land, then the hacienda and its outbuildings. The things which had given him so much pride in the past seemed now to leave him empty. Laying a hand gently on the headstone, he spoke aloud. "Our son is in trouble, my Isabella. I have not been able to help him. He has shut me out like he has so many times since he came back." Don Alejandro sighed. "He wants me to believe he is innocent, but he can give me nothing to prove it. The Magistrado's evidence is so strong against Diego. And there is the testimony of Don Alfredo." Don Alejandro sighed again, his heart constricting in his chest as he continued. "It seems that the charges must be true." Looking up at the heavens, he declared, "But, my beloved, I cannot believe that a son of mine would be capable of treason against the crown. There has to be another explanation. There has to be. But Diego will not say anything other than he is innocent." In anguish, Don Alejandro asked, "Why won't he confide in me, Isabella? What is he hiding? Who is he protecting?" He lapsed into silence.

After a moment, he looked down at the grave. "I have no choice but to attend the trial and hope Diego will say something in his defense I can seize upon to help him whether he wants me to or not. I will not let our son be condemned as a traitor if there is anything, . . .anything at all which I can use. If there is not, then our son will be sentenced to death. Our only son will perish and with him will perish everything of you that is in him." He paused as he thought for a moment. "His eyes and his smile which are yours, my beloved," he said softly. "The small frown when he is concentrating on something. And the laughter, my dearest, so very much like yours. Those things are remembrances of you, my Isabella, and I see them in him. I am reminded that as long as he lives, some part of you goes on living. And if he should die, with him will also perish the last of the de la Vegas. We will be no more." Sighing again, Don Alejandro said with a catch in his voice, "I wish you were here, my beloved. You were always my strength and my wise counsel. I miss you so very much."

Don Alejandro remained there alone with his thoughts until the sun was well up. Then it was time. He mounted his horse and rode slowly back to the hacienda. Horses had been hitched to the carriage as per his instructions, and the vaquero, Raul, was standing by, ready to drive the patrón to the pueblo. Don Alejandro entered the carriage and waved Raul to drive on. The servants and vaqueros watched them drive away. Some took off their hats out of respect, and some offered prayers for what was to come. They would all have to wait to see if the son of their patrón would be convicted of the charges against him. What would happen after that they did not want to think about.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Don Alejandro's face was etched in stone as he arrived in the pueblo. He held himself stiffly erect in the seat of the carriage, neither looking to the left or the right. He was acutely aware that he was the object of everyone's rather morbid fascination as the carriage pulled up to the tavern, which would be serving as the courtroom. He climbed out of the carriage and tugged on his jacket to straighten it before walking up to the door of the tavern. The soldier posted there opened the door at once and allowed Don Alejandro to enter. Others tried to crowd behind him to catch a glimpse of the tavern's interior, but the soldiers pushed them back. The few who did see into the tavern noted that there were a great many chairs set in rows before a large table which dominated the front of the tavern. Most, if not all, of the chairs were already taken by the district's large landholders and the wealthier townsmen who had nearly filled the tavern.

Santiago was within, immaculately dressed in an austere dark grey suit which set off the silver appointments of the sword which he wore at his side. He was standing at the far end of the long table, sorting through his papers, arranging them for the trial. Most of this was for show, however. He knew to the last point how to present his case. He had known it for months as he had prepared the victims for this day. He felt immense satisfaction at the whole affair, from the first days of coming to Los Angeles to the events of just the previous day. Crediting his meticulous preparations and his extreme caution and patience, Santiago was assured of victory in the prosecution of Diego de la Vega and of ultimate triumph over Alejandro de la Vega as he tore down the walls of dignity and pride which surrounded the old man. He suppressed a smile as he thought about walking through the rooms of _his_ hacienda, which had once belonged to the de la Vegas, but which now would be his in due time. _His._

He looked up as the elder de la Vega came into the courtroom, and their eyes met. Don Alejandro was somber and upset, but Santiago could see no personal animosity directed towards him by the old don. By design, Don Alejandro was convinced that Santiago was just doing his duty as required by the law and this was something the older man could understand. Honor and duty were the hallmarks of Alejandro de la Vega. He could have nothing but respect for a man who also adhered to such principles. Santiago bowed solemnly to acknowledge Don Alejandro and was pleased to see the older man bow in kind.

Don Alejandro took his place in the central seat of the front row of the chairs arranged before the large table, his peers making room for him. Many spoke to him in low tones, offering their good wishes and prayers, some patting him on the shoulder as they spoke. Capitán Hidalgo, under orders from Santiago, had moved up to take a seat just behind and off to the side of Don Alejandro where he would have an unobstructed view of both Don Alejandro and the prisoners when they were brought in. After a few more moments, Don Alfredo Caldón walked into the room and all eyes turned to him. Everyone knew that he, in addition to Capitán Hidalgo, was one of the key witnesses against Diego de la Vega. Don Alfredo looked distinctly uncomfortable and held his hat by the brim, turning it around and around with his hands. He would not meet anyone's eyes. Santiago walked over and escorted him to a front row chair on the extreme right side of the room. Although no one spoke to the don, there were none who seemed to express disfavor at his appearance. Everyone knew and respected Don Alfredo and knew how close he and Don Alejandro were as friends. They all knew Don Alfredo was in a tough position and counted themselves extremely fortunate that they were not the ones to have to walk in his shoes. A quiet buzz filled the room as everyone spoke in low tones to his neighbor.

Santiago now had all of his witnesses in place, or soon would have. Lozano was already here in the courtroom as was Doctor Avila. Sergeant Garcia would be bringing in the prisoners, then he would be present as well. With the testimony of Don Alfredo and Capitán Hidalgo, Santiago had no fear that he could in any way lose the case against Diego, but he wished to build a solid case, showing the long term influence of the outlaw Zorro and the menace he was. There only remained now the arrival of the prisoners and the presence of the judge to begin the trial.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Diego and Bernardo were up with the dawn. They took their time washing and shaving and trying to make themselves as presentable as possible. Santiago had thoughtfully sent a soldier to the hacienda to pick up some fresh clothing for the two men and they gratefully changed out of their old clothing. Diego knew Santiago had not done this out of kindness. He was merely keeping up his appearances as a benevolent but firm Magistrado. When they were served breakfast, Diego was not particularly hungry and set his plate of food aside. However, Bernardo insisted it would not do for the stomach of the trial's main attraction to start rumbling during the trial. Diego smiled at his mozo and ate some of the food, but it sat heavy on his stomach and he ate but little.

After the food was taken away, there was nothing for the two of them to do but wait for the trial which was to take place at nine o'clock. Through the open gates of the cuartel, they could see the crowd gathering. The soldiers had orders to keep everyone away from the front of the cuartel, but the people gathered across the plaza near the well or near the inn where they could still see in. The prisoners, in their turn, could see the people gesturing and pointing at the inmates of the jail as they gawked and speculated among themselves. Neither man could see any friendly faces in the crowd. Glancing at each other, they acknowledged this between themselves.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Finally it was time.

Sergeant Garcia came, bustling around with somber efficiency as he knew the importance of the situation. He counted Don Diego among his friends, but he had a job to do and he did not wish to disappoint the Magistrado. He assembled the soldiers for the escort, assigning only his own men to be the ones to guard the prisoners. He would show Don Diego that courtesy at least. He would have no strangers in his escort.

Diego watched the soldiers assembling in front of the cells, checking their uniforms and seeing to their weapons. He felt the utter helplessness of his situation, and it made his skin crawl. In all his time as Zorro, he had never faced this sort of thing. Always before, there had been a way out. And if there was not one, he had made one. And if he had not made one, then Bernardo had, by some miracle, made one. However, Santiago had bottled him up in a way that no one else had ever been able to do. No matter which way he turned, Santiago was there before him, making sure there was nothing he could do to help himself. His father's face came to his mind, and Diego knew that it was his love for his father which had held him back. Santiago had used his greatest weakness against him in ways that the Magistrado did not even suspect. But Diego had decided that if his life would buy that of his father's, then so be it. That was the way it would have to be. He raised his chin and straightened his shoulders. He would face what was to come with all the dignity he had at his command. He was a de la Vega after all.

Diego and Bernardo were taken from their cells. Both men had their hands placed in handcuffs. Diego faced this with barely concealed bitterness. His very soul despised these bindings. Being in a jail cell was one thing, but having his hands immobilized like this was the ultimate personal insult. He was not going to try to escape and Santiago knew it. He exchanged glances with Bernardo and he could tell that they were sharing the same thoughts. Sergeant Garcia was oblivious to Diego's feelings as he was only carrying out the Magistrado's orders. Diego knew this and said nothing. They were placed in the middle of the escort of soldiers and began the long walk over to the tavern.

With Capitán Hidalgo an important witness in the trial, and having already taken his place in the courtroom, Sergeant Garcia was roving about in the plaza, making sure everything was in order. Since this trial had emotions running so very high, there were lancers posted all around the plaza and also inside the tavern. The people were afraid of any man who had designs on the fate of California. The crime of treason filled them with fear of the man so accused, even if that man was the mild mannered Don Diego de la Vega. They had suffered too much under such men to not be afraid. They were also afraid of what El Zorro might do. They knew his abilities. But even so, there was a large crowd of people, merchants, peons and vaqueros alike lining the route to the tavern. None could bear to stay away. They all had to be there to see the great drama which would be played out today.

As Diego looked around at the people being held back by the soldiers, he saw few friendly faces. Those few who did seem disposed to be friendly looked upon the prisoners with pity rather than with hope in their eyes. The rest of the crowd seemed by turns sullen and fearful. The voices in the crowd carried an undertone of menace. Bernardo kept very close, as if Diego could still protect his silent friend. If only he could.

When the prisoners and their escort approached the tavern, Sergeant Garcia placed himself in front of the door. Holding up his hand, he said, "Halt!" in a loud voice. "Wait here until I call for you." With military precision, he turned and went into the tavern. While they were waiting, Diego continued to hear the dark murmurs of the crowd as they talked among themselves.

"Traitor!"

The word was flung over the heads of the people. Diego could not tell just who said it, but it did not matter. Many people were thinking the same thing. There were heads nodding all around. The sound of the murmuring crowd grew darker still.

His attention was drawn away from the people as the tavern door was opened. "Bring in the prisoners!" ordered Garcia. Squaring his shoulders, Diego entered the tavern still within the midst of his soldier's escort. He was taken to the front of the courtroom and told to stand before the chairs placed to the left of the table which would serve as the judge's bench. Bernardo was made to stand just beside him. Diego's eyes met those of Santiago's. The Magistrado was solemn, but his dark eyes clearly reflected the triumph he expected to enjoy. Their eyes remained locked until Judge Vasca emerged from his room upstairs. Then Santiago gave Diego the briefest of smiles before looking upward at the judge. Diego could feel his blood pressure rising, but he clamped down on his emotions. He must not lose his composure. It would serve nothing to do so.

He looked over the crowd in the courtroom and saw many of his father's peers along with many of the leading men of the pueblo. Then he saw his father seated in the front row. For the briefest of moments their eyes met, then Don Alejandro looked away, looking at the floor, or across the room, anywhere but at Diego. This cut Diego to the marrow of his bones even though he let nothing show. The working of his jaw muscles as he clenched his teeth was the only outward sign he permitted. He had half expected his father would not come and had been glad to see him here. But now, he was not sure he wanted his father to witness what was to come. The chasm which had grown between them was growing wider and the trial would certainly complete the rift. Taking a deep breath, Diego turned back as he heard the sounds of Judge Vasca coming down the stairs. The judge was dressed in the solemn black robes of his office and he carried a sheaf of papers tucked under his arm. Glad Judge Vasca had been chosen for this trial even though he was certain of the outcome, at least Diego felt he could expect to be treated fairly by the judge even in the face of such overwhelming evidence.

All the people in the courtroom rose out of respect and so remained until Judge Vasca came to stand behind his desk. The judge slowly surveyed the room and everyone in it. Satisfied, Vasca then seated himself in the large wooden chair behind the desk and nodded to Santiago to address the audience.

"You may be seated," Santiago said to those assembled to witness the trial. Diego and Bernardo remained standing.

Judge Vasca studied the papers on his desk for a moment, then waved his hand at Santiago as he said, "Señor Magistrado. Everything is in readiness?"

"Sí, Your Excellency. All is ready," replied Santiago with a bow.

"Very well," said Vasca. To the crowd and to Santiago, he said, "Let it be known that, even in the face of great personal tragedy, Señor Santiago has not forsaken his sworn duty to uphold the laws of our land." He nodded his head in respect to Santiago.

Santiago was pleased. This was just as he imagined it would be. He could see the great sympathy on the faces of all present. All, with one exception. But Diego de la Vega's opinion did not matter, now did it? He raised his chin in the attitude of one who rises above his personal losses and put on his best official face.

"Graciás, Your Excellency," he said.

Never one to delay things with a lot of posturing and long speeches, Judge Vasca got right to the point. "I declare this court now in session. Señor Magistrado. You may now read the charges against the defendant, Diego de la Vega." He then leaned back in his chair to listen.

Santiago picked up documents from the table in front of him and began to read out loud in solemn tones. "It is hereby charged that the defendant, one Diego de la Vega, did knowingly and willfully conspire to overthrow the lawful government of his Majesty, the King of Spain. It is charged that Diego de la Vega is a traitor to his country and his king." Even though everyone knew what the charges would be, there was an intake of breath by the spectators, audible throughout the room. Santiago continued, "The prosecution charges that Diego de la Vega secretly met with known conspirators; men who were previously linked with that other lowly traitor, José Sebastian de Varga, also known as The Eagle. We also charge Diego de la Vega with secretly meeting a representative of his Majesty's current enemy, that being one outlaw known to all as El Zorro, who enlisted him in the conspiracy to overthrow our government. The prosecution further charges that Diego de la Vega is guilty of receiving seven thousand three hundred and fifty pesos along with some assorted jewelry worth two thousands of pesos, which was the ransom money for the child, Eduardo Caldón, son of Don Alfredo Caldón. And finally, the prosecution charges that Diego de la Vega was carrying on his person a document, which we will put forth in evidence, which establishes that Diego de la Vega was the purchasing agent for the conspiracy and that he was ordered to acquire weapons and munitions for the army which his outlaw leader hopes to field against our loyal military. All of these actions and the preponderance of evidence will prove that Diego de la Vega is guilty of treason against His Majesty, the King of Spain." Santiago lowered the documents and looked at Diego.

Diego fancied that only he could see the gleam in the prosecutor's eyes.

Judge Vasca turned his attention to Diego. "Having heard these charges against you, Diego de la Vega, how do you plead?"

Diego lifted his chin defiantly as he said with great firmness, "Not guilty, Your Excellency." The people in the room made a low rumble of surprise at his statement, but were silenced by a look from Judge Vasca.

Vasca's pen made small scratching noises as he wrote on his papers. "It is so noted," he said at last. "Now, Señor Magistrado, if you will be good enough to read the charges against the servant, Bernardo. We will try both cases together since they are so closely related."

"Yes, Your Excellency," said Santiago bowing to the judge. From another document, he read, "It is hereby charged that the servant known as Bernardo, knowingly assisted his master in the aforementioned acts of treason. The servant Bernardo is charged with attempting to free Diego de la Vega from the garrison jail in Santa Barbara after his master's arrest. He is further charged with failure to report to the authorities all of the unlawful activities of Diego de la Vega, his master. The servant Bernardo is charged with failure to do his duty as a subject of the King."

Judge Vasca spoke to those assembled. "We have a special situation with this servant in that he neither hears nor speaks. But we have allowed the only person with whom he shares the ability to communicate to previously explain the charges against him in the presence of both myself and the Magistrado. I am satisfied that his master was successful, and that Bernardo knows the charges against him." He turned to Bernardo and said, "Bernardo, how do you plead to the charges against you?"

Of course, Bernardo could hear everything that was going on, but he kept up his pretense. He looked from Judge Vasca to Diego. Diego nodded. Bernardo turned back to the judge and shook his head "no" emphatically.

Judge Vasca said, "The servant, Bernardo, has pled not guilty to the charges as read. It is so noted." Again he made a note on his documents. "The prisoners may now be seated." Diego sat down with his shackled hands in his lap. Bernardo remained standing a moment longer and then noticing Diego, he quickly sat down as well.

Vasca rearranged some of the documents on his desk and dipped his pen in the inkwell again. Santiago had also rearranged his papers and now held a new set in his hands. Vasca turned his attention back to Santiago and said, "Señor Magistrado you may begin."


	59. B3 Ch2: Trying the Spirit

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 3**

 **Chapter** **2 – _Trying the Spirit_**

"Graciás, Your Excellency," said Santiago, bowing to Judge Vasca once again. He advanced a few steps in Diego's direction, but stopped short of blocking the judge's view. "I have known for some time that something was amiss with young de la Vega, Your Excellency. It started a few weeks after he was in my employ. But there was nothing which I could put my finger upon. I had been working on a theory of mine which involved the bandit, Zorro. It was when I aired this theory in front of de la Vega, that I began to see where his sympathies lay."

"And just what was this theory?" asked Judge Vasca.

"It was my considered opinion then that the bandit known as El Zorro desires to be the man who will take control of California so that she may then be sold to the highest bidder among the enemies of the King." There was a gasp among those assembled even though many had heard of this. Santiago enjoyed the reaction. With the airtight case he had against Diego, he could make these people believe anything. "And I believe young de la Vega was his willing accomplice." Again, there was a reaction among the people. Tío was nodding his head in agreement. He had been there at the time and had heard everything.

Diego stood and declared, "That is untrue."

"Oh? Which part, Señor de la Vega?" asked Santiago. "The part about Zorro's designs . . . or your involvement in his schemes?" Santiago watched him carefully.

"All of it," said Diego, steaming. Forgotten was his promise to say nothing in his defense.

Santiago smiled condescendingly. He was quite willing to have Diego react in this manner. It played right into his hands. "Señor de la Vega," he said. Let me ask you to recall the events of that night when we spoke of Zorro in the tavern. Did you not express sympathy for Zorro? I believe you characterized him as . . . a savior, . . . did you not?"

Diego was forced to answer. "Sí, but many people . . . ."

"We are not talking about other people, Señor de la Vega. We are talking about you. I next asked you if you could condone the actions of a man who worked outside of the law to achieve his goals. I believe you answered that you could."

"Only in the case where those responsible for the law abused it themselves," said Diego, seeing where all this was going. Santiago was going to twist his own words against him just enough so that he could not deny saying them and the people would conclude that the Magistrado's charges were valid. He glanced at his father and saw Capitán Hidaldo sitting just behind Don Alejandro. With a meaningful look, Hidalgo raised his hand and placed it around his own throat and stroked it thoughtfully. Then he looked pointedly at Don Alejandro. Diego glared at him. But there was nothing he could do. Sitting back down again, Diego looked at the floor just in front of him.

"But we have no one here who abuses the laws now, Señor de la Vega," Santiago said. "I believe my tenure as magistrado for this district has been singularly fair and honorable. I think that, in all modesty, everyone will agree?" He turned to look at the courtroom. He was pleased to see everyone nodding their agreement. Even Don Alejandro nodded solemnly. Turning back to Diego, he said, "Why then, is this Zorro still around?" Diego said nothing. "Could it be just as I have said? He has his own agenda, that being the destruction of the lawful government of California so that he might sell her to the highest bidder among our enemies?" Diego could say nothing. He just slowly shook his head as he continued to look at the floor. "You have no answer to that question, Señor de la Vega?" Santiago questioned. "Well, I do. And when this trial is over, all shall be certain I know whereof I speak."

Santiago then began presenting his carefully created evidence, building from what he had already established. "I have been very meticulous in gathering the facts available concerning the masked bandit," said Santiago to those assembled in the courtroom. "It seems to me that this man, whoever he is, began his career as a one man vigilante. In the beginning, perhaps, his motives were pure, but as time went on, I think he began to see himself somewhat differently. He was a man who could come and go at will, and no one could seem to capture him. He began to see himself, not as someone who worked outside the law to do good, but as someone who was above the law. Someone who could make his own laws. That is when I believe he met the Eagle." Santiago paused to assess the effect his words were having. Everyone was listening intently. This was good. "Señor Varga and Señor Zorro are two of a kind," he stated. "Each of them felt they were above the law, and each of them felt they were the one who should ultimately control the fate of California. The egos of such men know no bounds. It is my opinion that Zorro threw in his lot with Varga simply because Varga had already amassed a large organization and Zorro was but one man. At the proper time, when Varga had stolen California from His Majesty, Zorro would strike against Varga and California would be his to do with what he would."

"This is all very interesting, Señor Magistrado," interrupted Judge Vasca, "But what has all of this to do with the case at hand? You must prove the relevance of your statements soon, or I shall be forced to ask you to move on."

"Your indulgence, please, Your Honor," said Santiago, holding out his hands. "I believe you will see that everything I say has relevance to this case."

"Very well, but do move on," said Judge Vasca.

Santiago bowed to the judge and said, "Certainly, Your Honor. To be brief, I believe Zorro helped Varga in his plans until something happened between the two of them. A difference of opinion, a flash of anger, who knows? Zorro broke away from Varga and set out to ruin the Eagle. That is why it appeared he was helping by foiling all of Varga's carefully laid plans. But I say Zorro was motivated to defeat the Eagle so that he could himself take over Varga's plans to seize California and sell her to the highest bidder. There is no honor among thieves, Your Excellency, and it became a contest between the two men to see who would be in control. Only one man could win.

"It was during this time of the struggle between the two men that Señor Varga came to stay at the de la Vega hacienda preparatory to his final push to take control of California." Santiago bowed to Don Alejandro while he said, "This, of course, was while our distinguished Don Alejandro was in Monterey seeking permission to form his citizen's army. A move which we all know was instrumental in the Eagle's ultimate defeat." Don Alejandro acknowledged Santiago with the barest of nods. The Magistrado smiled and then continued. "It is also well known that while the Eagle occupied the de la Vega hacienda, El Zorro was a frequent visitor. There were many who saw him there, including Don Alfredo Caldón." He turned to Don Alfredo. "Is this not so, Señor?" Don Alfredo nodded solemnly. Santiago continued, "Don Alfredo credits Zorro with saving his life while at the de la Vega hacienda." Again Don Alfredo nodded. Santiago turned to the judge.

"This is where the relevance to this case ties in, Your Honor," he said. Vasca nodded in acknowledgment. "Don Alejandro was away from the hacienda at this time, but Diego de la Vega was not." Santiago pointed at Diego. "Diego de la Vega was there the whole time. The same time as the Eagle, the same time as El Zorro." He paused to let this sink in. "In light of all which has happened since then, I believe that El Zorro recruited young de la Vega to his cause during that period of time."

Leaning forward, Diego said, "That is not true!" again forgetting his promise not to speak out.

Bernardo glanced at Diego and could see that the younger man's blood was up. Silently, he counseled Diego to regain control, even while knowing that his young master could not hear his silent plea.

Santiago indulged Diego his outburst. In calm, but firm tones, he continued. "Let me ask you a question, Señor de la Vega. You may or may not have known just who your house guest was, but you certainly knew Zorro was a wanted criminal, an outlaw with a price on his head. This Zorro seemed to be able to enter and leave your home at will, appearing and disappearing with uncanny ability and yet you seemed unaffected by this. You asked for no additional protection, as a matter of fact, as I understand it from Corporal Reyes, you were upset when Varga assigned a personal guard for your protection and asked that he be sent away. Why was this, Señor de la Vega? Why were you, of all the people in the hacienda at that time, why were you not afraid of Zorro?" Diego opened his mouth to reply, but Santiago cut him off. "I will tell you why," he said. "It was because you were in league with the outlaw and you were lending what aid you could in his quest to topple the Eagle. It was you who aided Zorro to enter your home and foil the plots of Señor Varga time and again. Who knows the hacienda of your father better than one who grew up within its walls? Who could aid Zorro at that moment better than you, Diego de la Vega?" Again, Diego opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Santiago. "What did Zorro offer to you in exchange for your cooperation, Diego? What did it take to buy you?"

Diego clenched his fists within their shackles and almost stood up. He felt a sudden pressure on the outside of his left foot and looked down to see Bernardo's foot pressing against his. He looked at Bernardo, but the mozo was gazing blankly around the courtroom, seeming not to have a care in the world. But Diego knew what Bernardo was doing. He was warning Diego to have a care. Don Alejandro was still in danger if Diego did anything to try and defend himself. Swallowing the words he was about to speak, Diego regained control of himself. He knew this whole sham of a trial was going to be cut from the same cloth, but by the Saints, he wanted to take on Santiago for the affront to his honor by the insinuation that he could be bought.

Santiago saw Diego's anger and then saw him master his emotions. Good. De la Vega still remembered the threat to his father after all. Santiago had experienced a brief moment of doubt when it seemed that Diego was going to try and defend himself against the accusations. "All right," he said. "For the court, let us recap the facts. While his father is away seeking to find ways to protect the people of California, Diego de la Vega is sharing his home with the Eagle and the Fox, both of whom turn out to be traitors and conspirators against His Majesty, the King. Zorro works to defeat the Eagle, aided by Diego, meaning that they are in league together against a common enemy. Before witnesses, Diego de la Vega has characterized El Zorro as a savior and condones his actions which are performed outside the law. I might add that these statements were made shortly after de la Vega came to be in my employ. In hindsight, I should have given them more importance, but at the time, I had no reason to doubt Diego. He was the son of a proud and honorable patriot, and that was sufficient at the time." Santiago, drawing out the moment, thoughtfully turned over one of the papers in the stack of documents on the table as he prepared to continue the case against the defendant.


	60. B3 Ch3: A New Kind of Warfare

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 3**

 **Chapter** **3 – _A New Kind of Warfare_**

"Now Your Honor, we will move into more current events," Santiago began as he returned his attention back to the court. "There are more oddities in Diego de la Vega's behavior, which must be explored to set the background for what is to follow." Santiago quickly ran through the types and numbers of cases he and Diego had worked on when he had named Diego as Deputy Assistant Magistrado, remarking that he had found Diego's work to be exemplary. Then he mentioned Zorro had suddenly returned to the area where he had not been seen in almost a year. He stated that once Zorro had returned to the region, Diego had mysteriously been late in returning from assignments. He had both Doctor Avila and Sergeant Garcia called to the stand one at a time to establish the fact Diego had been late in returning from a routine assignment in Buena Ventura the very day Zorro had first re-appeared in Los Angeles.

Santiago turned to Diego. "You were late returning to the pueblo that day, were you not?" he asked.

"Yes, but, . . ." Diego was cut off.

"Just answer the question," said Santiago, sternly. "You were late and you had traveled through the area north of your father's hacienda where Zorro had eluded the lancer patrol led by Sergeant Garcia. In light of your subsequent actions, I submit that you did indeed meet with the outlaw somewhere in the hills before coming home. Do you deny this?"

Diego opened his mouth and then stopped. Of course he could deny it, but who would believe him? He had been alone as he traveled that day. There were no witnesses who could testify on his behalf. Santiago cleared his throat meaningfully, locking eyes with Diego. "I have nothing to say," said Diego, looking back at Santiago. He grew hot as he saw Santiago give him the slightest of smiles. However, he schooled himself not to react. He would not give Santiago the satisfaction. As a matter of fact, as he thought about it, he decided that he would cool his reactions completely. Santiago expected him to be upset and despondent over his helpless condition, as most people would be in his situation. Diego would be just the opposite. He would do the unexpected. Let Santiago chew on that. It might just throw the Magistrado off enough to afford Diego some personal satisfaction in having confounded Santiago in at least one area before he was to die. Diego leaned back in his chair and, though he did not smile, he raised an eyebrow in Santiago's direction, causing Santiago to study him closely. Diego was content with this beginning.

Santiago frowned as he looked at Diego. Something significant had just occurred between the two of them, yet he did not know what to make of it. He did not have time to figure it out, there was a trial to conduct, but he would need to be careful. He did not like what he was seeing in his star prisoner. "Ahem," he cleared his throat. "Yes, Señor de la Vega, you have nothing to say because my declaration is true. But let us leave that for now. I call Capitán Carlos Hidalgo to testify." Hidalgo left his seat and came forward. "Now, Capitán, just how long have you known Diego de la Vega?" asked Santiago.

"He became known to me when you appointed him a deputy in your office, Magistrado," said Hidalgo. "He came to Santa Barbara several times on assignments for you."

"Did you know him well?" asked Santiago.

"No, Excellency," said Hidalgo. "De la Vega came to the pueblo, took care of his business and left. I signed a few papers for him from time to time, but that was the extent of our contact before, . . ." he paused.

"Before?" questioned Santiago.

"Before this affair with Zorro came up," said Hidalgo.

"Tell me about it, Capitán," said Santiago. "When was the first time you found a connection between the defendant and Zorro?"

"One night, three weeks ago, well after dark, I found the defendant behind the church, meeting with a known petty thief by the name of Tomaso. My lancers and I chased the thief, but he got away. I later questioned de la Vega as to why he was meeting with this man and he gave me several vague answers, one of which was that he was going to give the man some money."

"And why was he going to give a known thief money?" asked Santiago, looking around to gage the audience. He was pleased to see that they continued to pay close attention.

"He never answered that question," said Hidalgo. "But he did say the little thief expected to see Zorro at any moment. He said the thief was afraid that Zorro was coming."

Diego found he had to admire the way the truth was being used against him. He nodded thoughtfully to himself, pursing his lips. Then he looked up at Santiago. He affected a look of calm bemusement for the Magistrado's benefit. Santiago's eyes narrowed.

"So, um, Capitán," said Santiago, stumbling a bit as he continued to look at Diego. Then he gathered his thoughts and focused on Hidalgo. "You did not think this strange? Strange that de la Vega was meeting with a man connected with the outlaw, Zorro?"

"I had no reason to at the time, Your Excellency," said Hidalgo, shrugging slightly. "The de la Vegas are a well known family in California and I respected this. The meeting with the little thief seemed on its surface to be a chance one, just Tomaso trying to panhandle some money from a rich young señor."

"What changed your mind about de la Vega?" asked Santiago.

"It was the next afternoon, Your Excellency. I was heading a lancer patrol making a sweep through the hills east of Santa Barbara, when we chanced upon the defendant and El Zorro." There was an audible intake of breath from those assembled.

"El Zorro, you say, Capitán?" asked Santiago. "You found de la Vega and Zorro together?" He glanced at Diego to gage his reaction and was puzzled by de la Vega's lack of it. Diego seemed to be so calm it was beginning to irritate him. What was going on inside the mind of his former deputy?

"Sí," said Hidalgo, nodding his head. "We found Zorro on a ridge just above de la Vega's position. My lancers gave chase, but they did not catch the outlaw. When I questioned de la Vega as to what business he had with Zorro, he denied any contact with him. He claimed to be riding in the hills for pleasure and had only seen Zorro moments before we came along."

"And you believed him?" asked Santiago.

"I did not know what to think," said Hidalgo. "We did not actually catch the two of them together and de la Vega was your hand picked deputy. What was I to do? I ordered de la Vega to return to the pueblo and I sent my men to chase after Zorro."

Santiago was growing tired of Diego's bemused looks and turned to him. "What say you to this evidence, Señor de la Vega?"

Diego kept his face carefully neutral and said, "I can deny none of the events as described by Capitán Hidalgo." He did not have to look in his father's direction to feel the consternation coming from that quarter. But now he had his own game to play. He did not hold a physical sword in his hand, but he wielded the intangible sword of his wit, thrusting and parrying with his opponent, seeking the only victory he was likely to have in this whole affair. That of denying Santiago the pleasure of his own victory. He was rewarded by seeing Santiago's jaw working as the Magistrado clenched his teeth. Diego let the merest smile reach his eyes.

Santiago reached over and turned a page from his documents, not that he needed to. He was just trying to think. He did not like what de la Vega was doing, but he did not know how he was going to stop him. What was he to do? Tell the young don to stop doing, . . . . stop doing whatever he was doing? Santiago was beginning to feel foolish. Clenching his fist, he gathered control of his thoughts and pressed on.

He turned back to Hidalgo and said, "Capitán, is there anything further you would wish to add at this point?"

"Sí, Your Excellency," said Hidalgo. "Before de la Vega left Santa Barbara the next day, Zorro struck in the night. Some peons and a ranchero reported that the outlaw had tried to recruit them for his army and when they refused, he burned them out, stealing what few pitiful valuables they might have had. I confronted de la Vega with this news the next morning and questioned him again concerning why he was in the hills with Zorro. He denied any connection with the outlaw, but did admit that Zorro was originally from Los Angeles. He did not have any answers as to why Zorro was now in Santa Barbara at the same time as he. As much as I wished to, I had nothing concrete on which to hold de la Vega, and so I had to let him return to Los Angeles. I heard later that Zorro had also returned to Los Angeles."

Santiago turned to look directly at Diego. "A coincidence? I think not. It is now quite easy to see the connection between them, is it not?" He was pleased to see many in the courtroom nodding their heads. They were following the trail he wished them to follow. "Capitán, thank you for your testimony. Señor de la Vega? Have you anything to say?" He looked back to Diego who calmly shook his head and remained silent. "Nothing, Señor?" he questioned. "Come, do not be afraid to say anything in your behalf. The court is prepared to listen." For the briefest of moments he thought he saw anger in Diego's eyes, which was quickly replaced by that maddening look of calm detachment which his prisoner had acquired. Diego said nothing.

Almost growling, Santiago said, "You may return to your seat, Capitán. I will call upon you later." Hidalgo bowed and walked to his seat behind Don Alejandro. Santiago turned to Judge Vasca. "Your Honor, we have now established that Diego de la Vega was seen in the company of the outlaw Zorro while he was in Santa Barbara, by the testimony of Capitán Hidalgo. We now turn our attention to Los Angeles. Here I will give you my own observations which have a bearing on this case. Not many days after Diego's return from Santa Barbara, Zorro was sighted riding near the Mission at San Gabriel. Our patrols, lead by Sergeant Garcia were unable to find any trace of the outlaw. The next morning, Diego arrived in the pueblo just as Sergeant Garcia and I were examining a map, marking out a search pattern for the lancer patrols. Once Diego realized what we were doing, he was quick to make suggestions for the patrol to search particular areas quite some distance away from the Mission. Why would he do such a thing? He certainly has had no military training, no experience which would lend credence to his suggestions. As I thought back on these matters in light of all which has happened since then, I remembered I had remarked upon just how tired Diego appeared that morning. He looked as if he had not slept all night. He explained his condition away by saying he was subject to insomnia." Santiago looked at Diego. "I say now, I believe Diego had been up in the hills the night before, meeting secretly with Zorro, and that he did not wish for us to search around the mission for fear we would find his master." There. Let Diego chew on that, Santiago thought to himself. He looked to see what effect his words were having. He was maddened to see Diego looking back at him very calmly. There was no reaction. Nothing. Just a calm, almost amused look from the younger man. Santiago was so wrapped up in this battle of silence that he missed the reaction from Don Alejandro, the intended victim of all this trial for treason.

From his seat in the front row, Don Alejandro could scarcely take everything in, but he hung on all the words of the Magistrado and the witnesses. He was astounded as Diego seemed to agree that all the factual evidence placed before the court was correct. Don Alejandro had not known about any of the events which had taken place in Santa Barbara. Diego had told him nothing of them. But this latest accusation of the Magistrado brought to his mind that early morning when he and his vaqueros were riding out to inspect the cattle. They had seen Diego and Bernardo riding in from the direction of those very hills where Zorro was said to have made his camp. Don Alejandro was chilled to his very bones. Had he seen his own son coming back from a clandestine meeting with the outlaw? He looked at Diego sitting there in the chair before him, hands shackled and flanked by guards. What other explanation could there be? He had the evidence being presented by the Magistrado and the evidence of his own eyes. He shook his head slowly, seeking denial within himself. _By the Saints,_ he thought. _This must all be some horrible nightmare. I will awaken and this will all be nothing but a bad dream._ But hope as he would, he knew it was not a dream.

Santiago allowed the silence drag on for a few moments too long. "Señor Magistrado?" said Judge Vasca. "Is there something amiss or do you intend to continue?"

Chagrined, Santiago bowed to Judge Vasca. "Of course, Your Excellency. Pardon the delay. Allow me to continue." Silently he blasted Diego for somehow distracting him without saying a word or doing anything overt. Then he smiled briefly. Let Diego do whatever he was doing. Santiago would have the last laugh when Diego hung at the end of the hangman's noose. This vision firmly in place once again, Santiago took up his presentation of the evidence where he had left off. "It was later on this same day when Zorro came to the hacienda of Don Alfredo Caldón and kidnaped the child, Eduardo, in order to hold the boy for ransom," he said with a flourish. "Wishing to spare Señora Caldón from such wrenching testimony, I will call others who can testify that it was Zorro who came to the hacienda and took away the child." He had one of the sentries go to the back door of the tavern and bring in the old vaquero from Don Alfredo's hacienda. His hand was still bandaged from the wound he had suffered.

Santiago addressed the man. "Pedro, tell the court who it was who wounded your hand."

"It was Zorro, Your Excellency," said the old vaquero nervously.

"How do you know it was Zorro?" asked Santiago. "Were you able to see him clearly?"

"Sí, it was Zorro, Your Excellency," affirmed Pedro. "It could have been no one else."

"Please tell the court just what happened that day," Santiago said.

"The children were playing in the garden," said Pedro, looking down at his feet. "Zorro leaped his horse over the low garden wall and took Eduardo. I ran to try and stop him." Pedro looked up. "That is when he shot me, Your Excellency. Señora Caldón ran out of the house crying for her son, but Zorro just laughed and rode away."

"He rode away?" said Santiago. "Did he not say something before he rode away with the boy?"

"Oh, sí, sí," said Pedro. "Zorro said he would send instructions to Don Alfredo later so that he could get his son back. He said not to worry. He said he would take good care of the boy because he was worth a great deal."

"A ransom?" asked Santiago.

Pedro shrugged. "It seemed so, Your Excellency."

"Graciás, Pedro. You may go." Pedro bowed nervously once again and left the way he had come in.

Santiago turned to Judge Vasca. "You have heard now the testimony that Zorro was indeed the one who kidnaped the child of Don Alfredo Caldón. I now call Sergeant Garcia as a witness." Swallowing at having to testify yet again, Garcia came forward. He stood at attention. "Sergeant, I want you to recall the events from the day little Eduardo was taken," he said. Garcia nodded thoughtfully. "You had just come back from searching for Zorro near the mission when the peon named Carlos delivered the terrible news about the kidnaping. Is this not so?"

"Sí, Your Excellency," said Garcia.

"I ordered the lancers to get fresh horses and prepare to ride with me to find Zorro and return Don Alfredo's son to him, did I not?"

"Sí, Your Excellency."

"You will recall that Diego de la Vega was there at the time?" asked Santiago.

"Sí, Your Excellency."

"What was it Diego wanted to do?"

"Your pardon, Excellency?" said Garcia. "What he wanted to do?"

"Yes, Sergeant," said Santiago. "What was Diego's request of me?"

"Oh, sí. He wanted to go with us to search for the little boy, Eduardo."

"Yes, he did, Sergeant," said Santiago. "And what did I tell him? Do you recall?"

Garcia thought for a moment. "You told him he was not suited for such a thing and that he should remain in the pueblo or go to his home for his own safety." Somewhat embarrassed for his friend, Garcia looked over at Diego and said, "I am sorry, Don Diego, but that is what the Magistrado said." Diego said nothing, but nodded at Garcia with a little smile. Garcia smiled back. He turned back to the Magistrado.

"Now, Sergeant. You distinctly heard me tell Diego de la Vega he should not attempt the search for Zorro and Eduardo?" said Santiago.

"Sí, Your Excellency," said Garcia.

"Will you please tell the court who you saw in the hills several hours later, in a place where he should not have been?" Garcia swallowed because he did not wish to have to say. He fiddled with the hat in his hands. "Sergeant?" asked Santiago in a louder tone. "Who did you see?"

Reluctantly, Garcia said, "I saw Diego de la Vega and his servant Bernardo, Your Excellency."

"And tell the court where they were when they were seen," ordered Santiago.

"They were riding through the hills northeast of the de la Vega rancho where we were going to search next, Excellency," he said.

"They were in a place where I told Diego de la Vega not to be, were they not?" said Santiago.

"Sí, Your Excellency," said Garcia.

"Tell the court why we were going to search those hills in particular," said Santiago.

"Well, Corporal Reyes had found the boy's hat and the tracks leading in that direction."

"Whose tracks?" asked Santiago.

"Why Zorro's," said Garcia as if it were evident.

"So Diego de la Vega was going toward the place where the very tracks of Zorro were leading," said Santiago. "What conclusion do you draw from these facts, Sergeant?"

"I do not know," said Garcia, looking puzzled.

"I will tell you, Sergeant," said Santiago. "Diego had been told to stay away from the search, yet he was found riding in the exact direction indicated by the tracks of the outlaw Zorro. He was there ahead of us, yet he had been left behind at the pueblo hours before. He was riding there because he knew where Zorro was hiding all along, don't you agree, Sergeant?

"Well, . . . I, . . ." Garcia stammered.

Santiago pushed his point home. "I maintain that de la Vega was riding there to either warn Zorro that we were searching for him or he was riding there to receive further instructions from him. Isn't that right, Sergeant?" Garcia could not answer. "Why else would he disobey direct orders from his superior? Why else?"

"I do not know," said Garcia. "He did say he just wanted to help search for the boy," he offered.

"Recall something else for me, Sergeant," said Santiago. "Did Diego agree to return home immediately or did he argue with me?"

"Well, he, um, he wanted to stay, Your Excellency. Don't you remember? You had to order one of the lancers to escort Don Diego to his home. He did not want to go."

"That is right, Sergeant," said Santiago. "You may stand down now." Santiago had what he wanted from Garcia. He watched as the sergeant walked over to his place in the courtroom. "I believe that there is only one interpretation of the events, Your Honor. Diego de la Vega was riding out there in the hills to find Zorro. However, he was not trying to rescue the kidnaped child. He had some unseemly business with the masked outlaw. If he had gone out there to warn Zorro, he was apparently successful, because the outlaw's trail disappeared several miles later and we spent most of the night in a fruitless search. Somehow, Zorro had been warned and had time to cover his tracks. We found nothing."

All during this exchange, Santiago had not looked at Diego once. To Diego, this, in of itself, was another victory in their silent battle which he had won. He was grimly satisfied. But there were many more silent battles to be fought before the trial was over. At last, Santiago turned to him when he had dismissed Garcia. His dark eyes narrowed as if to challenge Diego to dare to continue their silent struggle.


	61. B3 Ch4: Silent Engagement

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 3**

 **Chapter 4 – _Silent Engagement_**

"Señor de la Vega," Santiago said. "You have heard the testimony of Sergeant Garcia. Have you any explanation for the events other than the ones I have presented? Now is the time to air them, if there are any."

Diego slowly arched an eyebrow as he contemplated the Magistrado's question. There was only one answer. "Sergeant Garcia's recitation of the facts is accurate in every detail," he said evenly.

"But you offer no other explanation for those facts?" asked Santiago. Diego said nothing, schooling his face to a calm facade. This was exactly how Santiago had wished for Diego to behave during the trial. He had been warned not to defend himself in any way. In fact, he had demanded the silence of his former deputy. But he now found this was more unsettling than if Diego had vehemently denied everything. The silent engagement between the two of them marred what should have been a most satisfying trial to this point. And, Santiago wondered why he thought of what was happening between them as an engagement. There was absolutely nothing which Diego had done which was other than what he had been warned he must do, and yet, Santiago felt as though he was losing a crucial battle. What was it about this Diego de la Vega which made him suddenly wish to throttle the man in front of everyone? Santiago shuddered inwardly as he struggled to maintain his own facade of calm efficiency. He must not lose his own composure.

"All right then," said Santiago to Diego. "You have nothing to offer, therefore I submit I am correct." Turning to Judge Vasca, he said, "This insight of mine into Diego's actions of that day did not come immediately, Your Honor. You will see this as further testimony is given. Suffice it to say, that by this point, I am puzzled by my deputy's actions, but not unduly alarmed. I wondered about him, but had nothing concrete at this point in time which would persuade me he was other than an honorable man, a young and somewhat inexperienced man, but honorable nevertheless. He was a member in good standing in the community and the son of the most honorable Don Alejandro de la Vega, a respected man and true patriot." Santiago glanced at Don Alejandro and saw that the old don was still sitting there with a face of stone. He knew the old man had not missed a word which had been spoken. This was good. Very good.

"Continue," said Judge Vasca, as he made more notes on his papers.

"Yes, Your Honor," said Santiago. "As I was saying, at this point in time I had no concrete reason to distrust my deputy, so when word came to me that Capitán Hidalgo had arrested a man in Santa Barbara whom he claimed had ties to Zorro, I chose Diego to go there to interrogate the man. I felt it was my duty as the head Magistrate for the district to remain here and lead the search for the outlaw and the missing child in and around Los Angeles. Diego was dispatched to Santa Barbara with instructions to interrogate the prisoner and, if conditions warranted, he was to contact me and I would go at once to Santa Barbara to take over the investigation. It was not at all clear at the time that the man in Capitán Hidalgo's custody knew anything of importance. He was characterized as a petty thief, but I felt as though Diego could make that determination. Now I recall Capitán Hidalgo to resume his testimony."

Hidalgo came to the front of the court and faced Santiago. "Capitán, tell us what happened when Diego de la Vega came again to Santa Barbara."

Hidalgo glanced at Diego and said, "The Assistant Deputy came to interrogate the prisoner. It seemed to me that he was inexperienced in such matters because after only a short time, he came to me and said the prisoner was too afraid to speak to him in the garrison jail and that he wanted the prisoner released into his custody."

"And what did you do, Capitán?" asked Santiago.

"I tried to tell him that what the man needed was a session at the whipping post and his tongue would loosen quickly enough. But this was not good enough for the Deputy and he insisted I release the prisoner to him. I was reluctant to do so."

"Why was this, Capitán?" asked Santaigo.

"I did not feel de la Vega could be trusted, Señor Magistrado. The prisoner in my jail was the same Tomaso whom de la Vega had been caught with some days before. While in my jail, Tomaso claimed to know something about Zorro. I immediately sent word of that to you, Excellency. Then there was the fact that de la Vega had also been found in the hills with Zorro when he had last visited our pueblo. The Deputy Assistant Magistrado seemed to have too many unexplained connections to the outlaw Zorro."

"Why then did you release the prisoner to his custody?" asked Santiago.

"Your written orders were that I was to cooperate with the Deputy in every way. You left me no discretion in your orders, Your Excellency. I did everything I could to keep Tomaso in my jail, but de la Vega insisted. Therefore, I released the prisoner into de la Vega's custody." Hidalgo reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded paper which he handed to Santiago. "Here are the orders which you sent to me, Your Excellency." Santiago took the paper from Hidalgo.

"May I see the document?" asked Judge Vasca.

"Of course, Your Honor," said Santiago as he handed the paper over to the judge. Vasca carefully read the orders and made some notations on his papers. "Capitán Hidalgo is correct. He was instructed to cooperate fully with the Deputy Assistant," said Vasca for the benefit of those assembled in the courtroom.

Santiago affected a somewhat contrite look. "Yes, I shall have to be more careful when I issue certain written instructions in the future." Then he became serious once again. "Capitán, what was the result of your releasing the prisoner Tomaso to young de la Vega's custody?"

"De la Vega took the prisoner with him to the inn with the stated intention of feeding a meal to the little thief in order to win his confidence. Only then would he question the prisoner. I felt de la Vega was either an ignorant fool, or that he had some other plan up his sleeve. As a precaution, I posted a guard to watch the inn, to report on de la Vega's movements."

"What, if anything, did your guard report?" asked Santiago.

"There was nothing to report, Señor Magistrado," said Hidalgo. "A lone traveler came into the inn and took a room, but no one came out."

"Who was this traveler who took a room at the inn?" asked Santiago.

Hidalgo glanced at Don Alfredo. "It turned out that the man was Don Alfredo Caldón. The man whose son was kidnaped by Zorro for ransom."

Santiago turned and looked at the don and so did everyone else in the room. Don Alfredo continued to look at the hat he held in his hands, not raising his eyes. "Don Alfredo Caldón," said Santiago, as if this were some great revelation, though all present knew most of Don Alfredo's story. "Capitán, I believe it is time that Don Alfredo should present his testimony. You may return to your seat." Santiago looked at Diego for a moment and saw some faint signs of concern written on the young man's face. _Ah, so de la Vega is worried about Don Alfredo's testimony_ " he thought to himself. He was tired of de la Vega's seeming calmness during the trial. Somehow he had felt confounded even while he was building an airtight case against Diego. But now, . . . now he would see de la Vega just as he had wanted to see him all along: in defeat. In much better spirits, Santiago called Don Alfredo to come forth as a witness.

"Don Alfredo, do let me say how thankful we all are that your son was returned to you safe and sound," Santiago said, once Don Alfredo was before him.

"Graciás," said Don Alfredo.

"Now, Don Alfredo," Santiago said. "You were away from your hacienda when your son was taken, were you not?"

"Sí," said Don Alfredo.

"It took your men many hours to find you and then some time longer before you could return to your home. I believe it was well after dark before you could arrive to console your wife and children over the loss of your eldest son?"

"Sí, that is true," said Don Alfredo.

"Who, may I ask, was at your home when you arrived?" asked Santiago. "I mean, other than your wife, your children and the vaqueros guarding your hacienda."

"Diego de la Vega and his servant, Bernardo, were there."

Again, Santiago was gratified to hear the intake of breath from the people in the courtroom. He continued. "The de la Vega's are old friends of the family are they not, Don Alfredo?" Don Alfredo nodded. "You have known them for many years." Another nod. "Therefore it did not surprise you to see young Diego there when you arrived."

"No, Your Excellency. Diego has visited my family home many times. My children are quite fond of him."

"How nice, Señor," said Santiago. "Did you know, Don Alfredo, Diego de la Vega was at your home that night against my strict orders to him?"

Don Alfredo said, "No, Your Excellency. I did not know this at the time. Today is the first I have heard of it."

Santiago turned to the judge and then to the courtroom. "As you might recall, after I found Diego riding through the hills 'looking' for Zorro against my orders, I sent him home escorted by a lancer with orders to remain at his hacienda. Diego willfully disobeyed those orders and went to the home of Don Alfredo." Santiago looked levelly at Diego and saw that he had at last won a victory in the silent engagement between them. Diego was actually guilty of at least this one thing in the whole affair. This was something he could not deny even given the freedom to speak the truth about all which had happened. He could see it in Diego's face. Santiago was delighted. He turned back to Don Alfredo.

"Isn't it true that Diego had told Señora Caldón he had come to see if there was anything he could do for her? He was just trying to be a good neighbor?"

"Yes, that is true."

"Now as I understand it, you were waiting for a message to be delivered from the kidnaper with the instructions regarding the ransom for little Eduardo?"

"Yes."

"At the time you returned home, those instructions had not yet been delivered?"

"No, Your Excellency."

"Don Alfredo. Where do you place your hat and gloves when you enter your house?" Santiago was pleased to see the stir this question caused among those in the courtroom.

"On the small table in the vestibule."

"And you placed them there that night?"

"Yes, I did," said Don Alfredo.

"Diego de la Vega left your home shortly after your return, did he not?"

"That is correct, Your Excellency."

"That is when you discovered someone had placed the ransom note in your hat, underneath your gloves?"

"Yes, this is so," said Don Alfredo.

"I ask you then, who was the only person who had come anywhere near your hat in the short time you had been home?"

Don Alfredo took a long breath and said, "Diego de la Vega."

Santiago looked quickly then at Diego and was rewarded. He had scored another victory in their engagement. Lozano's little scheme to frame Diego for the placing the note in Don Alfredo's hat had been a stroke of genius. When this was over, he just might reward Lozano handsomely for that one. Diego had an unfeigned look of surprise written on his face. The utter calmness had been shattered. His confidence in his abilities now restored, Santiago returned to his work.

"Diego de la Vega," he said to Don Alfredo. "You are certain? No one else could have placed the note in your hat without your being aware?"

"No, Your Excellency," said Don Alfredo. "There was no one else. There was only Diego and his servant in the vestibule. No one else."

"Do you have the note with you as I requested, Don Alfredo? I wish to place it in evidence with the court," said Santiago.

"Yes, I have it here," said Don Alfredo, pulling the note from his hat.

Santiago almost laughed at the irony, stopping himself at the last moment. Solemnly, he took the note and read it. Then he presented it to Judge Vasca, who read the note carefully, again making notations on his papers.

Santiago turned to Diego. "Señor de la Vega. What have you to say to Don Alfredo's testimony?"

Diego knew he had lost ground to the Magistrado in the silent duel between them. How many more surprises did Santiago have hidden? But he must answer the question. Raising his chin, he said, "Of disobeying your orders to remain at my home, I plead guilty, Your Excellency." There was a murmur from the people in the courtroom. This was the first time Diego had openly admitted guilt on any point made by the Magistrado. Diego was angered by the smile which played across Santiago's lips. He clamped down hard on his emotions. He must regain control. There were still many silent battles to fight in this sham of a trial and he was determined to win again. "But I know nothing of how the note came to be in Don Alfredo's hat."

"You have no other explanation as to how the note came to be in Don Alfredo's hat?" Santiago asked. Diego remained silent and shook his head slowly. "Then I submit there is no other explanation," said Santiago. Again, Diego said nothing. He had resumed his calm demeanor, but Santiago knew there was a difference in that calmness. And he had made that difference.

He turned back to Don Alfredo. "We have established that you received the ransom note and we know now it came by the hand of Diego de la Vega," he said. "We will not delve into your reasons for deciding to pay the ransom, although I must say I was hurt that you did not come to me first." Don Alfredo looked down at the floor. "I am sure that you had your reasons, Señor. Tell me and the court, how much was the ransom?"

"Ten thousand pesos, Your Excellency," said Don Alfredo. There was a collective gasp from the courtroom. No one had ever heard of a ransom of this magnitude in California ever before.

"Did you have such a sum?" said Santiago.

Don Alfredo did not like to talk about his personal wealth in front of so many people, but he had to answer the question. He swallowed and then said, "Not the whole amount, Your Excellency. My wife added her own jewelry to make up the difference."

"Your sweet wife having to make up the difference with her own inheritance," said Santiago, shaking his head in pity. "How very noble of her. How like a mother. Now, you placed the money and jewelry in a pouch and the next morning you rode for Santa Barbara."

"Yes, Your Excellency," said Don Alfredo.

"Why Santa Barbara?"

"That is where the ransom note said to take the money. I was to take the money to the church in Santa Barbara after dark and leave it there. Then I would be told where to find my son."

Santiago was amused that Don Alfredo had actually volunteered information instead of having to pull the facts from him piece by piece. He commented, "So. While we were searching for little Eduardo and Zorro in the hills around Los Angeles, he was really in or near the pueblo of Santa Barbara. Really, Don Alfredo. I do wish you had told us about the ransom note much, much earlier. You left us to ride through the dust and the wilderness in a fruitless search. If Señor Lozano had not come to get us, we might still be out there looking for your boy."

"I apologize," said Don Alfredo. "I, . . . I was not thinking very clearly. All I could think about was getting my son back."

"I know, Don Alfredo. All is forgiven," said Santiago with a gentle smile. "We will not speak of that again. Now, let us continue your story. You set out for Santa Barbara to arrive after dark carrying the ransom with you. You were alone." Don Alfredo nodded. "You went to the church and left the money as you were instructed. Then you took a room at the inn."

"Sí."

To Judge Vasca, Santiago said, "Your Honor, that is when the guard posted by Capitán Hidalgo saw a man enter the inn where Diego de la Vega was conducting his 'questioning' of the prisoner Tomaso. The man he saw was Don Alfredo."

"Yes, it was so noted previously," said Vasca. "Continue."

"How long did you have to wait before you were contacted concerning your son?" Santiago asked Don Alfredo.

"It was a few minutes before nine o'clock, Your Excellency. Another note was delivered by a rock through my window telling me where to go."

"Have you this note as well?" asked Santiago.

"I am sorry no, Your Excellency," said Don Alfredo. "I wanted nothing more than to find my son, so I did not keep the note. I hurried to go to the place where my son was to be restored to me and waited."

"Just where was this place, Don Alfredo?"

"It was in the lower part of Santa Barbara, near the wharves."

"Did you see anyone else?" Santiago asked.

Don Alfredo shook his head and said, "No, Your Excellency, I saw no one. The streets were dark and deserted. If it had not been for the lightning from a storm over the mountains, it would have been completely dark."

"Yes, there was a storm that night wasn't there?" said Santiago. "But now let us see. You were waiting alone on a dark street, hoping to receive your son into your arms. But before that happened you saw something else, didn't you?" Don Alfredo nodded sadly. "In your own words, Don Alfredo, tell the court what you saw on that stormy night." Santiago held his breath as he waited for Don Alfredo to speak. He wanted the story to come directly from Don Alfredo's lips.

Tight lipped, Don Alfredo began. "I had been there for some minutes when I heard the sound of a horse walking along the street. I peered out into the darkness to see who it was, but I could not make out the rider. Then the lightning flashed and I saw it was Zorro. Another figure stepped out to the street corner from the shadows and in another flash of lightning, I saw that it was Diego de la Vega." Don Alfredo paused for a moment and then began again. "Diego said, 'You are late, Señor Zorro.' and Zorro greeted Diego, calling him by name. I could hear them clearly. I knew by this exchange there was no doubt but that they knew each other, and had pre-arranged this meeting. I was certain that in my haste to find my son, I had come too early and was now witness to something which I should not have seen. I stayed hidden and listened to them speak. I saw Zorro hand over a document to Diego who took it. Then he handed over a bag, heavy with coins and said, 'Here is the money.'"

Santiago broke in at this moment to ask, "You were sure the bag contained money, Don Alfredo? How could you be certain from where you were hidden?"

"Because the bag of money handed to Diego was mine," said Don Alfredo. "I recognized it as the bag I brought with me to Santa Barbara. The bag containing the ransom money."

"This bag?" asked Santiago reaching into his portfolio and bringing out a pouch full of money.

"Yes, that is my bag," said Don Alfredo. "I would recognize it anywhere."

"We enter this bag as another exhibit, Your Honor," said Santiago, handing it over to the judge. Judge Vasca opened the bag and poured the coins and jewelry out on the table in front of him. The sound resounded throughout the courtroom. "There is exactly seven thousand three hundred and fifty pesos there, Your Honor, and there is some assorted jewelry there which is worth several thousands. Don Alfredo, do you recognize the jewelry?"

Don Alfredo looked carefully at the jewelry and said, "Yes, it belongs to my wife."

"Is this the ransom you were forced to pay over to Zorro for the return of your son, Eduardo?"

"Yes, this is the ransom," said Don Alfredo.

"Excellent. Now that we have that established, please continue your testimony. What else did either Zorro or Diego say that night?"

Don Alfredo gathered his thoughts. "After Zorro handed Diego the ransom money, he said, 'Tomaso will be waiting to take you to the man who will supply weapons to us. Guard it well.' Then he said, 'Contact me again when you have completed your assignment. It is a pleasure doing business with you."

"What happened then?"

"Zorro just started to say, 'Señor de la Vega, you will be well rewarded . . . .' when I heard the sounds of many horses coming our way. Zorro heard them too. It was Capitán Hidalgo and a patrol of lancers. They shouted and Zorro fled, leaving Diego behind. That was when the Capitán rode up and arrested Diego. He seemed to make a struggle, but was quickly subdued. The Capitán and his men placed Diego on a horse and carried him away. He looked to be unconscious. Moments after that, my son was restored to me."

"Don Alfredo," said Santiago. "I know how hard it was for you to come here today and testify like this. You have done your country and your King a great service." Don Alfredo bowed in great solemnity. Santiago turned to Diego then. "Señor de la Vega. Again, I give you the opportunity to speak on your behalf. Have you anything to say?"

Diego had regained his composure while Don Alfredo had finished his testimony. After all, he knew better than his father's friend just what had taken place, did he not? He looked upon Santiago with all the coolness in his spirit he could muster. "Don Alfredo's recitation of the facts is accurate in every detail," he said, in repetition of the words he had spoken after Sergeant Garcia's testimony. He gave Santiago nothing. No reaction of any kind. Santiago likewise did not react to Diego's coolness. It was a silent standoff between the two of them and it only remained to see who would blink first. They were silent for so long that many in the courtroom began to look at each other with questions in their eyes. What was going on?

Santiago was the first to blink as Judge Vasca called his name. "Señor Magistrado? Is there any further testimony? We are waiting."

Santiago held Diego's eyes for a moment more and knew he had lost to Diego again in this ethereal contest between them. He had to break off to respond to the judge. "Yes, Your Honor. Of course. Don Alfredo, you may step down and I will now recall Capitán Hidalgo to testify." While the two witnesses were exchanging places, Santiago began turning pages in his documents. He re-stacked and moved them about as an excuse to help him control his anger at having been bested by Diego in a contest without words and without substance. What was happening to him? How could Diego de la Vega do this to him? How could a man win without doing absolutely anything at all? Santiago was becoming afraid this thing with Diego was becoming an obsession with him. He must regain control of himself. He was the Magistrado. Diego de la Vega was just the naive son of a rich man whom Santiago had chosen to use and discard. That was all he was. Nothing more.

As desperately as Santiago wished to make himself believe that, there was that within him which would not let him accept it. However, he pushed those doubts as far away from his conscious thoughts as he could. He had a trial to finish. And when he was finished with the trial, Diego de la Vega would be finished as well. And after he was eliminated, then the father, Don Alejandro de la Vega, would be his to do with as he willed. Grimly, Santiago concentrated only upon that. He did not look again upon Diego de la Vega.


	62. B3 Ch5: The Final Nails

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 3**

 **Chapter 5 – _The Final Nails_**

"Capitán Hidalgo, you heard the testimony given by Don Alfredo Caldón. Will you tell the court what happened when you chanced upon this meeting with Zorro and Diego de la Vega?" Santiago said.

Hidalgo began. "As Señor Caldón has said, I was leading our regular nightly patrol when we came upon Zorro lurking in the dark streets of the lower quarter of the pueblo. Mounted on his horse, he was speaking to another man on the ground whom I could not see clearly. I immediately ordered my men to charge. Zorro fled through the streets, disappearing into the darkness. As we drew near the man on foot who remained, I ordered my patrol to continue to pursue Zorro. I, and two of my men, stayed behind to confront this man who had been with the outlaw."

"And who was this man?" asked Santiago.

"It was Diego de la Vega, Your Excellency," said Hidalgo. Santiago indicated with his hand that Hidalgo should continue with his story. "I will confess that I was not totally surprised by this, Your Excellency, given what I have already told you about the connections between de la Vega and Zorro. My men seized de la Vega and confiscated a written message from Zorro and a bag of money. I knew immediately from the contents of the message that Diego de la Vega was guilty of treason and placed him under arrest. I found out later the money was the ransom paid by Señor Caldón to Zorro."

"Have you the written message given to de la Vega by the outlaw Zorro?" asked Santiago.

"Sí, Magistrado, here it is." Hidalgo pulled the note from the gold plated pouch he wore at his waist and handed it to Santiago.

Santiago opened the note and said, "Your Honor? If I may read this out loud?"

"Proceed," said Judge Vasca.

Santiago held up the paper and read. _"De la Vega. These are my requirements. Fifty muskets. Fifty pistols. Six kegs of gun powder. Two thousand rounds of ammunition or the equivalent amount of lead for making our own balls. Get the price down. Do not let our supplier cheat you. If he wants our continued business, he will reduce his prices. Tomaso will show you where to store the munitions. Continue your work with the Magistrado and see that any important military information is communicated to me at once through the usual method. It will not be long now. We will soon be ready to strike and we will be victorious. As always, your contributions to our cause will not go unrewarded."_ Santiago looked up from his reading and said, "It is signed, 'Zorro'." He hid his smile as the buzz of men talking filled the courtroom.

Santiago looked at Don Alejandro and saw the man staring at his son with his mouth partially open. Don Alejandro was in a state of shock. Santiago was well satisfied with the reaction to his little composition, for it was he who had written the note from Zorro. This was the one piece of concrete evidence which sewed together the whole fabric of his case. He had done well. Now there were only a few more points to make and the trial would be complete.

Judge Vasca pounded the table and called the courtroom to order and everyone grew quiet once again. He took the paper from Santiago and read the contents thoroughly. Then he made some notations on his own documents. While the judge was thus occupied, Santiago looked at Diego out of the corner of his eye. He saw Diego had his lips pressed together tightly as he observed the judge's actions. Diego had to know his fate was sealed. Would he continue to remain silent or would he break down and cry out his innocence? Santiago could not think of many men who would have the fortitude not to at least cry out for mercy at this point. Then Diego turned his eyes to meet Santiago's. Diego held Santiago's gaze for a long moment and then deliberately looked at the man in the front row of the courtroom observers. He was looking at Don Alejandro, who, with bowed head, was staring at the floor in an attitude of sorrow. When Diego's eyes returned to meet Santiago's once again, the message was clear. Diego was going to remain silent for his father's sake. For his father's life. There was an inner peace within Diego's eyes which set Santiago back. Another blow in their silent battle had been struck and Diego was the victor. Santiago gripped the hilt of his sword.

However, Judge Vasca chose that moment to address Santiago. "The evidence has been recorded, Señor Magistrado," he said. "Have you anything further to produce relevant to this case?"

"A point or two more, Your Honor," said Santiago, leaving Diego to his silent victory. His would still be the last word after all. "Capitán Hidalgo. As relates to Diego de la Vega and his clandestine meeting with Zorro, we see now that you discovered him receiving the instructions for the purchase of weapons on behalf of the outlaw and found him in possession of Don Alfredo's ransom money which could only have come from Zorro. You placed Señor de la Vega under arrest and put him in the jail at the garrison, did you not?"

"Sí," said Hidalgo.

"And what of his servant, Bernardo?" asked Santiago.

"The servant was not with de la Vega when we arrested him," said Hidalgo.

"Capitán, please tell the court what happened after you had put Señor de la Vega in your jail," said Santiago.

Hidalgo said, "We had put the prisoner into his cell, and posting a guard, I went into my office to prepare a dispatch to be sent to notify you, Your Excellency. At the time, I did not know you had come to Santa Barbara. As I was preparing my report, there came word of a disturbance behind the inn. There was a fire. Everyone knows the danger of a fire, Your Excellency, so I and most of my men went to see about it, leaving only the guard for the prisoner in the garrison. As soon as I saw the source of the fire, I immediately became suspicious, for it was merely some old wooden crates which had been set ablaze. Knowing it must be a diversion, my thoughts were to return to the garrison as quickly as possible, fearing that Zorro had somehow doubled back to break de la Vega out of jail. I found my guard standing outside the gates of the garrison distracted by the commotion. I cautioned him to silence and peered within the garrison compound. To my surprise, I found, not Zorro as I had expected, but de la Vega's servant, Bernardo, trying to pick the lock on the door of the cell. He had been the one to set the fire and was trying to free his master. I, myself, was the one to fell the servant with a blow from my pistol and we tossed him into the other cell next to his traitorous master."

Santiago turned to Judge Vasca and said, "Thus, the charges made against the servant in this trial, Your Honor." Vasca nodded and indicated with his hand for Santiago to continue.

"To continue my part of this testimony, Your Honor, Capitán Hidalgo was correct in that I had come to Santa Barbara without his knowledge. I had come in all haste once I had received the report from Señor Lozano saying Don Alfredo had set out to Santa Barbara alone. I had been in the tavern of the inn for only a short time when the fire was set, although I did not know the importance of it at the time. While I was there, Don Alfredo came in with his son. I was overjoyed to see the child restored to his father, but my joy was short lived when I was informed that my deputy assistant was in jail on charges of treason and Don Alfredo had witnessed the whole transaction. I went to Capitán Hidalgo at the garrison at once and found out the whole thing was terribly and tragically true."

Santiago paused for effect and let the silence linger for a moment. He did not look at Diego, for he did not wish to see what new triumph the younger man might force upon him with his uncanny silence. He would finish this trial and have done with young de la Vega. After all, it was the father at whom this whole thing was directed and Santiago was sure the trial had had its intended affect upon the old don. He cared nothing for Diego de la Vega and his victorious silence. At least, that is what he made himself believe.

"Is there anything more which you require from your current witness?" asked Judge Vasca, breaking in on his thoughts. Santiago turned and bowed to Vasca. "Yes, there is just one more witness I wish to place before the court and I will need the good Capitán to remain a moment longer, Your Honor." He turned to the lancer stationed at the back door of the tavern. "Lancer. Bring in the final witness." Everyone waited to see just who this would be.

The back door of the tavern opened again and a small man, with his hands tied before him and who walked with a limp, was escorted into the courtroom by the lancer. It was Tomaso. Santiago was pleased. Tomaso had arrived from Santa Barbara right on time, arriving only this morning. Santiago had kept him hidden away until now. Tomaso managed a nervous smile when he saw Santiago in the courtroom, but lost it when he saw the stern look on the Magistrado's face. He swallowed hard. He had been told not to show any familiarity with the Magistrado and he had forgotten. Gingerly, he took his place as a witness with the lancer standing just behind him. Santiago glared at Tomaso for a second more, then turned to his papers as though consulting them. The buzzing of the crowd began again as they speculated on the appearance of this small, mousy man, wondering just what significance he held for the proceedings at hand.

Don Alejandro started when he saw the small man who had entered the room. He knew this man. He had been the one who had come to the hacienda looking for Diego some weeks ago. Don Alejandro knew he was not mistaken. And now, here he was in bonds, a prisoner himself. Just what part would this man play in what was the worst nightmare of his life? He pressed his lips together tightly. He would just have to wait like all the others in the courtroom in order to find out.

Santiago turned to Hidalgo and said, "Capitán, do you recognize this man? Can you identify him for us?"

"Yes, Your Excellency," said Hidalgo. "This man is the little thief, Juan Tomaso.

"This is the man you found with Diego de la Vega behind the church as mentioned in your testimony?" asked Santiago. Tomaso glanced around and smiled nervously.

"Yes, it is the same man."

"This is the man whom you had in your jail, who claimed to have knowledge of Zorro?"

"Yes, Your Excellency."

"This is the same man whom you released into the custody of Diego de la Vega the night de la Vega was arrested for being a conspirator with the outlaw Zorro?"

"Yes, Your Excellency. It is the same man," said Hidalgo firmly.

"And this is the same man whom Zorro said would show Diego de la Vega where to meet with the one who would supply arms and ammunition to Zorro's armies?"

"He is the only man going by the name of Tomaso in all of Santa Barbara, Your Excellency. I must presume it is he."

"Your Honor. Capitán. Those of you assembled here to witness this trial," Santiago said as he indicated all present by a grand sweep of his hand. "What you see before you is not a mere petty thief who fell in with outlaws and bandits. I know this man." Santiago picked up a sheaf of papers from the desk and held them up. "I have here legal documents prepared by myself and countersigned by the Governor. These documents say this man's legal name is Hector Guerrero and these very same documents number him among those conspirators of José Sebastian de Varga, . . . the Eagle." There was a gasp among the audience at this revelation.

Santiago looked at Tomaso, now Guerrero. He knew Guerrero was standing there thinking he would be pardoned from any charges against him by giving his fabricated testimony against Diego de la Vega. But he was not. He was too much of a liability. Guerrero would go right on thinking he was to be pardoned until the moment he died. Just like all the other men of the Eagle, except for those whom Santiago had found useful. Guerrero's usefulness was almost at an end.

"Señor Guerrero," he addressed the man by his real name. "You realize the testimony you are about to give must be the truth?" Guerrero swallowed and nodded his head. "Very well. Tell the court. Your name is really Hector Guerrero, is it not?"

Guerrero looked down at the floor and said, "Sí, that is my name."

"And you worked for the Eagle, did you not?"

"Sí," said Guerrero.

"What was your position?"

"I was a courier for the Eagle," said Guerrero.

"Tell us, Guerrero. How long have you known the outlaw, Zorro?"

"Oh, I do not know him, Your Excellency," said Guerrero. "For him I have done little things here and there, but no one knows Zorro, Your Excellency."

"Tell the court how long you have been 'doing little things' for Zorro," said Santiago.

"It is more than a year," said Guerrero.

"More than a year," repeated Santiago. "When did you first see him?"

"It was a few weeks before the Eagle was killed, Your Excellency," said Guerrero. "He and the Eagle were talking together . . . ."

"They were talking together?" asked Santiago quickly, interrupting Guerrero. "You mean to say that Zorro and the Eagle were working together?"

Guerrero said, "Sí, Your Excellency. Or at least they were for a time."

"What happened?"

Guerrero shrugged, "The Eagle became angry at Señor Zorro because they could not agree on something. He put a price on Señor Zorro's head."

"Do you know what caused the disagreement?" asked Santiago.

"No, Your Excellency. I was never told. I was just a courier, not one of the leaders," said Guerrero. "All I know is that the Eagle wanted the head of Señor Zorro and he was willing to pay money."

Santiago turned to Judge Vasca and said, "See, Your Honor? My speculations about Zorro and the Eagle are correct. They were working together at one time toward the same goal, to overthrow the lawful government of California. One of the Eagle's own men has confirmed it." He turned and smiled at Guerrero to give the little man encouragement.

 _Just a little more, Guerrero and I will be done with you. Do not fail me now,_ he thought to himself. Guerrero smiled back. Santiago turned back to Vasca.

"I also have no doubt that my assessment of Zorro's actions against the Eagle are now borne out. He was merely trying to defeat the Eagle in order to assert his own plans to seize power and dominate California for himself." From the look on his face, Santiago could see that Judge Vasca was buying his theory now. He continued. "So, with this established, let us turn our attention to the case at hand. Guerrero, tell the court how you came to work with Zorro," said Santiago.

Guerrero shrugged again. "I have to eat, Your Excellency. After the Eagle was dead, I was a hunted man as were all the others. Zorro found me and told me if I would make myself useful to him, he would pay me. He told me to change my name and gave me money for new clothes."

"What work would he have you do?" asked Santiago.

"Many things, Your Excellency. But mainly it was to provide information. Shipments of goods along El Camino Real, military movements, spying on people, stealing food, whatever he wanted," said Guerrero. "He said he was going to gather an army of his own followers and needed information I could give him."

"Zorro's army," mused Santiago. "It seems I was right again." He looked back at Guerrero. "You were working for Zorro. How did you become involved with Diego de la Vega?"

"Oh, he was working for Zorro, too," said Guerrero, simply. "That is why he took your offer to be the Deputy Magistrado. He could be Zorro's eyes and ears in the Magistrado's office just as he had done for Zorro when the Eagle had occupied the de la Vega hacienda. That is when it started."

"What started?" asked Santiago.

"When de la Vega started working for Zorro," said Guerrero.

Santiago glanced at Don Alejandro and saw that his fish was completely hooked. With all the other evidence, and now with the testimony of Guerrero, there could not be a man in the courtroom who did not believe Diego de la Vega was guilty of conspiracy and treason. "So de la Vega spied on the Eagle for Zorro, who used the information to ruin the Eagle's plans. Then he spied on me and reported to Zorro also. And your part in this, Guerrero, was to deliver messages back and forth between de la Vega and Zorro?"

"Sí. And whatever else he wanted. Or Zorro would kill me." Guerrero looked around nervously as if he thought Zorro might be close by. "I was taking food to Zorro when Capitán Hidalgo captured me. I was very glad to see Diego de la Vega come to Santa Barbara. He got me out of prison. Otherwise, I am afraid that Zorro would have killed me. You see, I know too much and he would kill me to keep me from talking. But de la Vega got me out and saved my life." Guerrero looked back at Santiago. "You will protect me, won't you Magistrado? I can tell you much valuable information about El Zorro. You won't let him kill me will you?" He held his hands out in supplication. "Please, Señor Magistrado?"

Santiago had to keep from rolling his eyes heavenward at the pitiful performance of Guerrero. It was well that this trial was coming to the end and he could be rid of this clown. "Señor Guerrero. I will do whatever I can within the laws of our land to protect you. You will later stand trial for your own crimes and the judge will decide your fate. Your testimony has been quite useful in these proceedings. If you can provide information which will lead to the capture of Zorro, then I am sure the judge will look favorably upon you."

"Graciás, graciás," said Guerrero, bowing.

It was time to get the man out of the courtroom before the fool could undo what had been accomplished, Santiago thought to himself. "I have no further questions of this man at this time, Your Honor," he said. "He may be placed within the jail of the cuartel until his case can be tried." He waved his hand at the lancer who pushed Guerrero with his musket and escorted him out of the courtroom through the back door. "Now if Lozano and Aredo will complete their next assignment, we shall have an end to Señor Guerrero," Santiago thought to himself.


	63. B3 Ch6: The Final Thrust

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 3**

 **Chapter** **6 – _The Final Thrust_**

While Guerrero was being led away, Don Alejandro was feeling a weight pressing down on him that he knew would never leave his shoulders. He looked at his son, who had spoken not a word more on his behalf since that first outburst so long ago. Diego had only sat there in his chair looking calmly at the floor or gazing with fathomless eyes at the Magistrado. Rarely had Diego expressed any emotion during the whole affair since the first moments of the trial's beginning. Don Alejandro's heart tried desperately to deny all the evidence he had heard, but his mind could find no escape from the overwhelming case prosecuted by the Magistrado against Diego. Then too, he found himself thinking once more about all of the strange things which had bothered him from the moment Diego had returned from Spain. Diego's odd behavior from that time until this had been like a progression into a downward spiral which had led to this most base of charges: charges of treason and conspiracy. Silently, Don Alejandro berated himself for not taking Diego in hand when he had returned from the university. If he had forced Diego do those things which he should have required a rightful son of his to do, then surely all of this would have been avoided. It was because he had indulged his son in his idleness and whims that this had all happened. Someone else, . . . a black hearted traitor, . . . that black devil, Zorro, had won his son's heart away from him. And now because of his own failures, his son was going to die upon the gallows. If Don Alejandro had been anywhere else but in this courtroom among his peers, he would have cried aloud from the anguish in his heart.

After Guerrero was removed from the courtroom, Santiago restacked all of his papers. He was well pleased with the proceedings and was thoroughly convinced that Judge Vasca would indeed convict young de la Vega as a traitor and sentence him to hang. And the servant also. He must not be forgotten. He glanced at Don Alejandro and was extremely pleased at what he was seeing. He could see the self-torture in the old man's face and the heaving of his breast as he sought to contain his emotions. This was exactly the desired effect he wished to inflict upon the old man. It would not be long until the old don broke under the stress and would be willing to sell the de la Vega rancho to him for one peso in ten, or even one peso in a hundred. Then, with the old don gone and with his Zorro to terrorize the populace, many more would beg him to buy them out so that they could flee California. Santiago suppressed a self-satisfied laugh. Tonight, when all of this was over, he would have a celebratory glass of the finest Madeira which could be found in the pueblo. Or perhaps, two or three. Perhaps more. His musings were interrupted as his attention was drawn to Judge Vasca.

"Señor Magistrado. Are these all the witnesses you wish to present?" asked the judge.

"Yes, Your Excellency," said Santiago with a bow. "I believe I have now presented sufficient evidence to support all charges made against these two men. I have no more witnesses to call."

Vasca turned to look at Diego. "Señor de la Vega. Have you anything at all you wish to say concerning the evidence placed against you? If so, speak now."

Diego looked steadily at the judge. What was there to say? Everything Santiago had said was absolutely true and accurate as far as places, times, and events were concerned. There was nothing possible to refute in those things. It was Santiago's interpretation of those facts which was the crux of the matter. And it was Santiago's interpretation which Diego wanted so desperately to refute and could not. But even now, even if Don Alejandro's life was not in danger, Diego knew there was nothing he could say which would sway anyone that things were not just as the Magistrado had said. Who would believe him when he told them how he had been manipulated into being in those places and being in those situations just so that Santiago could force this trial upon him? Who would believe him when he said that the man who went about cloaked in black and doing such evil things was an imposter under the command of the Magistrado? Who would believe that very imposter had killed the Magistrado's own beloved wife at his orders? Who would believe such things of Jorgé Martinez Santiago, a man of unimpeachable honor, whose rule in the district had been nothing less than exemplary and whose very motto was "Justice is served"? Who would believe it? Seeing that Judge Vasca was still awaiting an answer, Diego swallowed once deliberately and said with a firm voice, "Your Excellency, I will only say that, to my last breath, I will proclaim my innocence of the charges against me. Beyond that, there is nothing more I can say." He could feel Santiago's eyes upon him, but he would not take his gaze away from the judge.

"This is most unusual, Señor de la Vega," said Judge Vasca, leaning forward. "Please consider your actions carefully. Your very life depends upon any defense you may choose to put forth against these charges. We are willing to listen to anything you wish to say on your behalf or on the behalf of your servant."

Diego looked at Bernardo. He saw the same look in Bernardo's eyes which had been there before. They were in this together and they would both lay down their lives in order that Don Alejandro might live. Diego squared his shoulders and said, "Your Excellency. My statement remains. I claim my innocence and the innocence of my servant. I can say no more."

Judge Vasca studied the young man before him. The evidence against the prisoner was overwhelming and yet there was something de la Vega was unwilling to say in his own defense. What could it be? Twice now, de la Vega had emphasized that he seemed to be restricted in what he was willing to say. Was it still the influence of the masked outlaw, Zorro? Had young de la Vega been so indoctrinated that he would give his life to protect that man? Vasca had previously seen such men brought before his bar of justice when he was judging those involved in the conspiracy of the Eagle. It was a sad thing for one so young, with so much life ahead of him to be misled by a charismatic leader whose only goal was to gather money and power to himself. Holding Diego's eyes a moment more and seeing no wavering there, Vasca said, "Very well. You have had your opportunity for defense granted to you as prescribed by law. It is so noted." He wrote on his papers. Turning then to Santiago, he said, "I will now entertain your closing remarks, Señor Magistrado, if there are any you wish to make."

"Graciás, Your Excellency," said Santiago walking around to stand in front of the table. "It has been my sad duty to prosecute a young man who showed so much promise in this community. A man who grew up here, the son of one of the greatest patriots and most honorable men in all California. But my ultimate calling in life is to ensure that 'Justice is Served.' I have proclaimed this from the first moment I set foot in this district. Therefore, as it has been shown from the evidence, Diego de la Vega did indeed, in full knowledge, willingly conspire with a known outlaw to extort ransom money from one of our leading citizens and further would have used such monies to purchase munitions and weapons which would have been used in a attempt to overthrow the lawful government of California and to strip California from the possession of His Majesty, the King. There is only one word for such an act and that word is _treason._ And there is only one verdict which can come from this trial, the verdict of . . . _guilty as charged._ And there is only one sentence which can be handed down in such a case. That sentence is . . . _death._ "

The silence hanging over the courtroom was almost palpable. No one seemed to move or to breathe. The Magistrado's words were not unexpected and no one was surprised, but to hear such words was intensely chilling. There were those who looked at the prisoners to gage their reactions, but there were even more who looked at Don Alejandro de la Vega. These were his friends and neighbors, those who knew him best. All of them could see what this trial was doing to him. Don Alejandro's son was one thing, but they had fought for years side by side with Don Alejandro against Indian uprisings, the predations of bandits, the petty tyrannies of Monastario, and the previous attempt to overthrow the government headed by the Eagle. They all respected the elder don greatly and naturally looked to him for leadership in many things. To see such a proud man reduced to watching his own son being convicted as a traitor to those things which made Don Alejandro proud to be a Californiano was too much. The silence continued.

Santiago was pleased with the results of his little speech. Let Diego think he had won some vanishingly small victories of silence during the testimony. What did he care? In a duel, one did not expect to emerge without taking some small nicks and cuts. However, it was the final thrust which determined the outcome and now it only remained for Judge Vasca to do what he must and render his verdict. This would be Santiago's final thrust at Diego and their duel of silence would be over. Santiago waited for the verdict with confidence.


	64. B3 Ch7: Awaiting the Verdict

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 3**

 **Chapter** **7 – _Awaiting the Verdict_**

All in the courtroom waited. At length, Judge Vasca made several more notes on his papers and then put down the pen. "Señor Magistrado and Senores," he addressed those assembled. "I shall now adjourn to my chamber to consider my verdict in this case." Everyone looked around in wonder, especially Santiago. What was there to consider? "Do not be surprised, señores," Vasca responded as he saw the looks being exchanged. "Any charges which require death as the ultimate penalty are not to be taken lightly. I will be deliberate and sure before I render my final verdict." Judge Vasca then stood, and everyone, including the prisoners, stood as well. "This court stands adjourned for one hour," said Vasca. Picking up his papers and placing them under his arm, the judge proceeded up the stairs of the inn to his room. Everyone followed him with their eyes.

Santiago was nonplussed. He had very much wanted the verdicts for the two prisoners to be announced immediately. He felt somewhat deflated by the delay. He would not look at de la Vega for fear of seeing that maddening non-smile once again. No, he would just have to wait like all the others to see his victory. He began to shuffle his papers importantly as a cover for his disappointments.

Once the judge was gone, the voices of the people rose as they talked about the trial and the points of evidence which had been presented. However, there was a conspicuous ring of silence around Don Alejandro as those people seated nearest to him got up and moved away before speaking among themselves. Don Alejandro remained in his seat, his eyes fixed upon the judge's vacant chair. Most of the men in the courtroom decided to go outside the tavern to get some fresh air and were immediately barraged with questions by the other people gathered outside. Soon, everyone in the pueblo knew what had transpired during the trial and they gathered in small groups and large to discuss the events.

Lozano made sure to circulate through the crowds adding a word here or a comment there to increase the unrest among the people, especially the larger landholders. Then he saw Tomaso/Guerrero being led from the back courtyard of the inn. The lancers were taking him to the cuartel. Placing himself where he could see clearly, Lozano waited. Suddenly, Guerrero cried out and fell face down in the dust of the plaza. From his back sprouted a knife buried to the hilt. Several women cried out and people began to scatter. Lozano knew the Magistrado would be pleased. Aredo's skill in knife throwing had been well demonstrated. Lozano glanced around, but could not see his accomplice. Aredo had done his work, then had vanished without being seen.

Lozano ran over to the fallen man and checked him for signs of life. There were none. He pulled away a note which had been wrapped around the handle of the knife. He held it up and read it out loud. _Thus, I deal with those of mine who betray me._ he read. "It is signed, Zorro!"

To one of the lancers he cried out, "Take this to the Magistrado at once! This man has been killed by Zorro!" He gave the note to the lancer who ran back to the inn. Lozano regarded the dead man once again. Guerrero had always been a weak link. He was a nervous man and nervous men did stupid things. It was a miracle Guerrero had made it this far without upsetting the Magistrado's plans. He was well gone in Lozano's opinion. Too many times Santiago had threatened Lozano about keeping Guerrero in line. Well, he would no longer have to worry about that. He suppressed a smile of his own when he thought about how useful a thing it was to have a Zorro to blame for the deaths of certain individuals. The Magistrado was very clever indeed to have thought of it.

Back inside the courtroom, Santiago spent a few more moments organizing his papers and waiting. The word of Guerrero's death should be coming at any time. He would personally go and investigate and see that a search was begun for the masked killer. It would do well for the people to see him walking unafraid through the plaza, putting on his noble front. Let Zorro threaten the Magistrado, they would say. But see? He is not afraid. Let Zorro kill the Magistrado's wife. Let Zorro kill his own operative. But the Magistrado will still uphold the law and do his duty. Nothing will stop him. Is he not a man we can admire? Is he not a man we can highly esteem? Smiling to himself at this image, Santiago waited.

A lancer came rushing in and reported breathlessly. "Señor Magistrado! I beg to report that the prisoner, Guerrero, is dead. He was killed by Zorro, Your Excellency. Here is his message." The lancer held out the note to Santiago.

Feigning disbelief, Santiago exclaimed, "You say Guerrero is dead? Let me see that!" He snatched the note from the lancer's hand.

Diego and Bernardo shared a look. Another death to lay at the feet of the Magistrado? Both of them were sure of it. Santiago must have seen the man as a liability now that his part in the trial was over, and had him removed. They turned back to listen further.

"Sí, Your Excellency," said the lancer. "A knife came out of nowhere and struck him in the back. He died instantly."

Santiago turned. "Capitán!" he called out. "You, Sergeant Garcia and the other men will remain here and safeguard the prisoners," he said. "They are not to leave their seats for any reason. No one is to speak to them. Not until Judge Vasca returns. I will be out in the plaza to examine this murder for myself."

Hidalgo saluted and said, "Sí, Your Excellency." Santiago nodded and, placing his hat upon his head, went out. This left only Diego and Bernardo, Don Alejandro, Don Alfredo and Capitán Hidalgo in the courtroom besides the guards and Sergeant Garcia.

Hidalgo went over and spoke to the guards and Sergeant Garcia, then resumed his seat behind Don Alejandro, who continued to stare at nothing in stolid silence. The capitán took out his pistol and carefully checked its priming. Then he leaned back, propping his arm on the back of his chair, dangling the pistol from his hand as he gazed at the prisoner in a silent threat to Diego not to attempt to speak with his father. Diego saw this threat clearly. He looked at his father and clenched his jaws tightly as he swallowed past the lump in his throat, seeing afresh the total alienation which had been forced between his father and himself because of Santiago's machinations. More binding than the shackles which now chained his hands together, the shackles forged out of the love he bore for his father held him in his place and restrained his tongue. But that did not keep his soul from crying out in the silence between them.

Bernardo could see that Diego's emotions were very near the surface as he watched his young master's chest heaving. He had surreptitiously watched the silent duel between Diego and Santiago during the trial and had been proud of his young master for fighting back in so ingenious a method. But the calmness which Diego had forced upon himself for that silent battle had vanished now that Santiago was no longer in the room. Bernardo slowly shook his head as there was nothing he could do to help Diego or his father. He entertained the thought for a moment that he would rather leap up and charge Hidalgo now and have the man shoot him dead on the instant than have to watch the heart-wrenching separation forced between Diego and his father. But he would not do that. That would be abandoning his master and friend and he would not do that. He would just have to endure all things in order to remain by his master's side as long as possible. Diego needed him.

Time passed and the silence in the room dragged on. There was only the waiting. Don Alfredo had remained in his seat as the courtroom had emptied out. He continued to look at the hat in his hands or at the floor, not wanting to meet the eyes of either the prisoners or Don Alejandro as they waited. He would have given almost anything, except for the lives of those in his family, not to have been required to give his testimony. But as a man with honor, and as a father whose son had been foully kidnaped by the man who was surely Diego's master, how could he not testify? It was his duty. Privately, he felt Diego had been deceived by the charismatic Zorro into joining the conspiracy. After all, Diego was a rather naive young man. Everyone knew this. But he was a man after all, and responsible for his own actions. He had made a grave mistake and now must pay the price.

Don Alfredo took a moment to steal a glance at Don Alejandro and was shocked at how much the man seemed to have aged since he had last seen him in the Magistrado's office almost a week ago. He looked again more closely. The older man's shoulders were bent down as if by some great weight, the creases in his face were magnified, and there were hollows under his eyes. Don Alfredo's heart was broken on behalf of his friend. His testimony was going to be instrumental in the conviction and death of Don Alejandro's only son. There had to be something that he could do to help Don Alejandro. There had to be. Diego's cause was lost, but there had to be something that could be done for Don Alejandro.

Praying for inspiration, Don Alfredo found himself thinking of Don Alejandro's history. He remembered the words of the Magistrado during the trial. " . . . one of the greatest patriots and most honorable men in all California . . . ," Santiago had said of Don Alejandro. The elder don was indeed a leader of men and a hero. It was he who had led the defensive fight in the pueblo when the Eagle would have seized the town and the cuartel. Against all odds, he had held the Eagle's men pinned down until the other dons could be summoned, never mind Zorro's supposed contribution to the cause. It was Don Alejandro's idea to create the citizen's army of which Don Alfredo had become a tentative member. Don Alfredo was grateful to this day that his friend had talked him into joining the collection of men who had arrived in the pueblo just in time. All of California might have been lost if the Eagle had won that day.

Don Alfredo also remembered how happy, and yes, proud, Don Alejandro had been when he had found out that it had been Diego who had come to call them to arms. On that day, Diego had been somewhat redeemed in his father's eyes. He had not run away to save himself, he had run to get help. And now, if his only son were sentenced to the gallows, it would destroy Don Alejandro. It would probably kill him, for his heart would be forever broken. But what if Diego was not sentenced to hang? What if there was an alternative? Where there not two different penalties prescribed for the crime of treason? Exile or death. Could he use Don Alejandro's importance to California and his patriotic heroism to sway Judge Vasca to the side of life for Diego? It would mean Diego's exile from all the lands of Spain forever, for there was no doubt in Don Alfredo's mind but that he was guilty, but more importantly, it would mean that Don Alejandro's son would be alive. This might give Don Alejandro a chance at life. That was what was most important. Don Alejandro deserved that chance and Don Alfredo was going to try to see that he got it. It would require meeting with Judge Vasca in private before the sentencing. He was not sure his request for such a meeting would be granted, but he had to try. He owed it to his friend.

Standing, Don Alfredo walked slowly across the courtroom and up the stairs. Everyone in the courtroom turned their heads to look at him, but he did not acknowledge them. He was half afraid the soldiers might stop him, but no one did. Pausing before the door to Judge Vasca's room, he said to the guards, "Please. I must speak with Judge Vasca. It is vital."

The guards glanced at each other and then looked down at Hidalgo who was watching from below. Hidalgo was not sure just what was going on, but he had no orders from Santiago concerning this event. Not sure just what to do, Hidalgo nodded and one of the guards said to Don Alfredo. "Wait here, Señor. I will ask His Excellency if he will speak with you." He knocked on the door and entered when the judge responded.

Meanwhile, Hidalgo motioned to Fuentes who was one of the guards standing near the prisoners. When Fuentes came near, Hidalgo spoke in low tones into his ear and Fuentes nodded once and left the courtroom and went out into the plaza. Hidalgo sat back and fixed his eyes upon Don Alfredo once again. He hoped that Fuentes could find Santiago quickly and bring him back so the Magistrado could deal with this new wrinkle. Hidalgo was not going to stick his neck out and get himself in trouble over the independent actions of Santiago's star witness. He would let the Magistrado deal with that.

Up on the balcony, the guard returned and said to Don Alfredo, "Señor. His Excellency will see you now." Swallowing hard, Don Alfredo nodded and solemnly entered the judge's room. The guard closed the door behind him and resumed his post. Once again, all was silent in the courtroom as they waited.


	65. B3 Ch8: Treason

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 3**

 **Chapter** **8 – Treason**

It was some minutes before Santiago strode into the courtroom. He glanced first at the prisoners and then at Capitán Hidalgo who had risen immediately. Fuentes resumed his post near the prisoners as the two of them went to the back of the courtroom and spoke in low tones.

"Tell me," Santiago ordered.

"Your witness, Caldón, has gone upstairs to speak with the judge," said Hidalgo.

"For what reason?" ask Santiago.

"I do not know, Your Excellency. He spoke to no one. He just went up and asked to speak to the judge. I did hear him say to the guards that it was vital."

"Vital? What could be vital?" wondered Santiago aloud, staring up at the judge's closed door.

"You don't suppose he has gone in there to recant his testimony do you?" asked Hidalgo.

Santiago considered this a moment. "No, I do not. Don Alfredo would rather die than do something dishonorable just as would Alejandro de la Vega. They are much alike in that. No, Caldón has something else up his sleeve."

"Perhaps he has gone to ask for mercy for the prisoner," said Hidalgo, continuing to speculate. "He is a close friend of the family after all."

As soon as Hidalgo said it, Santiago knew that must be the answer. Don Alfredo, as dutiful and honorable as he was, still had a soft heart where his family and friends were concerned. Santiago stared at Vasca's door as if he could bore a hole through it. He had to get up there and repair any damage Caldón may have caused. Grabbing the hilt of his sword, he began walking rapidly towards the stairs. Just as he placed his foot on the bottom step, the door to Vasca's room opened and Don Alfredo came out. Santiago paused and looked up. He followed the don with his eyes as the man walked over and came down the stairs, stopping when he reached Santiago.

"Is there some problem, Don Alfredo?" Santiago asked, searching the man's eyes for some clue.

Don Alfredo's visage remained as stolid as ever. However, there was something about his demeanor which led Santiago to believe something had happened up there. "No, there is no problem, Your Excellency," said Don Alfredo. "I, . . ." He was interrupted before he could complete his sentence.

"Señor Magistrado," came Judge Vasca's voice from above.

Santiago turned to face the judge, looking up. "Sí, Your Excellency?"

"Señor Magistrado, assemble the people and call the court to order. I am ready to render my verdict and pass sentence upon the accused."

Santiago bowed. "At once, Your Excellency," he said. Don Alfredo then passed by him and went to his seat, leaving Santiago no opportunity to question him further. Santiago was not at all happy. His control of the situation was slipping away from him and he did not like one bit. But there was nothing he could do at the moment. Turning, he called out to Garcia. "Sergeant. You heard His Excellency. Go at once to call the people back. Court is now back in session."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Garcia with a salute. He left the courtroom and went out into the plaza.

Santiago went over to where his papers were placed upon the table and took up his position. There would be no opportunity to question Don Alfredo before everyone was back in the room. He glanced at the man and saw that he was sitting stiffly erect in his chair, his eyes making no contact with anyone else in the room. Just what had the bothersome meddler said to the judge, he wondered. Judge Vasca was not a man easily swayed by emotional arguments, but Don Alfredo had accomplished something up there. That much was evident. Santiago tried to control his anger at the situation, causing him to grind his teeth in frustration. He must not let his own emotions carry him away. He must still be able to think clearly to take advantage of anything which came his way. He must remember that he still had the upper hand. He was the Magistrado.

Through everything, Don Alejandro just sat quietly in his chair. With some part of him which seemed detached from everything else, he had heard about the witness, Guerrero, being killed, he watched all the activity with Don Alfredo and the judge and had heard the order to reassemble the people given to Santiago. The moment which filled him with dread was approaching and that was now all he could focus upon. He felt the presence of his son across the room from him even though he did not look there. Diego had been just as silent as he. No words had passed between them although there had been opportunity enough while they waited for the judge to return. Again and again he thought about how Diego had offered no defense to the charges brought against him. Why? That was still the burning question. Who was Diego protecting by his silence? The only answer Don Alejandro could come up with was . . . Zorro. His son would rather die than betray Zorro, an outlaw and a treasonous conspirator. Involuntarily, his hand clutched the cloth of his garments over his heart, and he closed his eyes against the overwhelming anguish within his breast.

When he opened them again, he found himself looking into the eyes of Diego. Diego gazed upon him with the clear eyes of hazel given to him by his mother. It seemed almost as if Diego might speak to him then, but he saw Diego sigh and drop his eyes to the floor and the moment was ended. Don Alejandro clenched his jaws in sudden anger at this further betrayal and refused to look at Diego again.

The crowd filed into the courtroom and settled into their chairs. The raucous buzz of their conversations died away as Judge Vasca appeared on the balcony in his solemn black robes. Everyone rose as the judge made his way down the stairs and took up his position in back of the table. He stood for a long dramatic moment as he surveyed the crowd, the prosecutor and the prisoners, then he placed his papers upon the table and sat down, arranging his robes around him. At this, all the other people sat down as well. Santiago remained standing at his place near the end of the table. There was a silence as they waited.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

"I declare this court back in lawful session," said Judge Vasca at length. "Having carefully reviewed all the facts and evidence presented here today, I have arrived at a most solemn verdict in this case." Turning to look at Diego, he said, "The prisoner, Diego de la Vega, will stand."

Showing no outward emotion, Diego slowly stood to face the judge.

In the solemn voice which all judges have when they are making a pronouncement, Judge Vasca began. "I, Sebastian Antonio Vasca, Chief Magistrate for His Majesty in Alta California, do find the defendant Diego de la Vega guilty of the crime of treason against His Majesty, the King of Spain." There was a collected gasp among those in the courtroom. Vasca held up his hand to forestall any further outburst. When all was quiet once again, he continued. "Diego de la Vega, you now stand convicted of the crime of treason against the people and government of California and against our sovereign, the King of Spain. The crime of which you are guilty warrants the death penalty. However, out of the deep respect due your father, Don Alejandro de la Vega, a true patriot, who came to the defense of his country and his King against the usurper, José Sebastian de Varga and who led the victorious fight in this very pueblo against this same usurper, we have taken it upon ourselves to commute your sentence."

Santiago started at these words. He stared at the judge, only barely concealing his emotions. Diego de la Vega was guilty of treason. The death penalty was the accepted penalty for such a crime. Santiago glanced at Don Alejandro. The old man sat stone faced in his chair, neither looking to the left or right. Somehow the old man's reputation had intervened on behalf of his son, and it had to be something Don Alfredo had said to the judge. That would explain why Caldón had met with Vasca. Santiago knew that Don Alejandro was a powerful man and had altered all of his plans accordingly, but he had not imagined Judge Vasca would let that power sway him. Vasca was a powerful judge in his own right. No one would question his verdict in this case. That is why Santiago had arranged things so Vasca was chosen to be the judge assigned to this case. Once Vasca made his judgement, no one, not even the Governor would be likely to have it overturned. And now Judge Vasca was showing mercy in a case such as this? Santiago started to worry that all of his plans would be thrown into disarray. If Diego de la Vega was not sentenced to die, how would he apply the pressure needed against Don Alejandro to break him and gain ownership of the de la Vega lands? His attention was returned to Vasca as the judge began to speak.

Still looking directly at Diego, Judge Vasca said, "Diego de la Vega, it is the order of this court that you shall be exiled for life from the territories of His Majesty known as Alta California. It is further ordered that you shall be exiled from all lands under the rule of our sovereign, the King of Spain. Notices shall be posted in every port and every pueblo which will declare your treason and your exile. To return to these lands is death. You will be taken from here and placed under house arrest at the hacienda of your father until tomorrow evening, when you shall then be escorted to the ship now anchored at the port of San Pedro. You may take only such belongings with you as Don Alejandro will allow, nothing more. When the ship sails, you shall be on it, placed in the custody of the ship's captain.

"Diego de la Vega, you are forever forbidden from these shores."

Don Alfredo let out the breath which he had been holding for so long. The judge had listened to him after all. He glanced at Don Alejandro, but could see no reaction on the face of his friend. But he knew that in allowing Diego to live, the judge had given Don Alejandro a chance to go on living as well. It was all he could do for his friend. Now he would just have to wait and see how things progressed.

From his place in the courtroom, Santiago was quickly reassessing his options. Exile for Diego instead of death. He pursed his lips as he thought. Things might not be as bad as he had feared. He also glanced at the stoney visage of Don Alejandro and decided that exile most probably would suit his purposes just as well as a hanging would have done. The results were nearly the same. Don Alejandro's only son and heir would be sent away in shame from California, never to return. This shame of having a son convicted of the despised crime of treason would still remain to be played upon by Santiago as time progressed. Yes, things were not as bad as he had feared a moment ago. He could still make everything work. It would take merely a few adjustments in his plans.

Through a fog, Don Alejandro dimly heard the sentence given to his son for the crime of treason for which he had been convicted. Far from sorrow, he found that his anger was growing against Diego for allowing this to happen. Diego had had everything a young man in this day and time could have wished for and he had thrown it all away to join a treasonous conspiracy. He did not fully understand why the judge had chosen exile over the death penalty, but did it matter? Diego was lost to him as surely as if he had been sentenced to death. He closed his eyes and wished for this nightmare of a trial to be over. He wanted to leave the courtroom and go where he could be alone, away from the prying eyes of his friends and peers.

For his part, Diego was quite surprised by the sentence. He had been prepared for the guilty verdict, but the sentence of exile, while still a deadly serious matter, was a godsend to him. He glanced at Bernardo. Here was the miracle for which they had prayed so hard. And to be sentenced to stay in his own home for one night was almost beyond comprehension. A small seed of hope had been planted in his heart. He did not know just what would come of all of this, but this miracle could not have been sent to him for no reason at all. His attention returned to Judge Vasca as he continued to speak.

"Now to the servant, Bernardo," said Judge Vasca. "Lancer, you will make him stand." Fuentes poked Bernardo with his musket to cause him to stand. Bernardo put on a look of bewilderment as he looked around. But, like Diego, he too felt as though a miracle had just occurred with his friend's sentence of exile and not death. Bernardo now faced Vasca wondering what his fate before the judge was to be.

Vasca shuffled his papers and placed them once again on his desk "The servant, Bernardo, also stands convicted of treason by this court," said Judge Vasca. "The servant Bernardo was caught in the act of breaking into jail the jail where his master had been lawfully incarcerated, attempting to help de la Vega escape. He also witnessed the prior actions of his master and knew of their treasonous nature. He should have reported to the authorities and yet chose not to do so. His disabilities notwithstanding, the servant Bernardo knows right from wrong. His was a deliberate act of ignoring the law. Therefore, it is the order of this court that the servant Bernardo be hanged until he is dead upon the gallows no later than noon of the day after tomorrow, or as soon as the gallows may be constructed. He shall be held in the jail of the cuartel until the sentence may be carried out."

Trying not to show that he had actually heard the words of his sentence, Bernardo nevertheless, found that he had to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat and breathe past the constriction in his chest. The death penalty. He looked at Diego for confirmation and saw he had indeed heard aright. But he also saw something else in Diego's eyes. He saw there a promise that Bernardo would not die. This promise came from the man who was El Zorro. The real El Zorro. Swallowing again from the gratitude he now felt, Bernardo gave the smallest of nods to Diego to indicate he had seen and understood the silent promise. His life was still in great danger, but he felt secure in the promise of the young man who stood beside him.

Once again Judge Vasca spoke. "I hereby declare these proceedings concluded," he said with finality. "This court stands adjourned. Remove the prisoners."

* * *

 **NOTE: And we've finally reached the prologue scene! Now... on to what happens next!**


	66. B3 Ch9: Echoes of Silence

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 3**

 **Chapter** **9 – _Echoes of Silence_**

The people, crowded in the courtroom which was the tavern, rose with a clamor and followed the handcuffed prisoners as they were taken from the room. Santiago continued to stand near the tavern's bar as he watched the room empty.

Don Alejandro remained seated as the crowd left. He stared at the hat in his hands, too numbed to do anything else. Several of his friends were gathered around him offering their sympathy, but there were not many. A man with a traitor for a son was not someone with whom many wished to associate. They wanted no taint of guilt by association to be attached to themselves. So they stayed away. Don Alejandro could not fault them. He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked up to see Santiago watching him. Alejandro felt no real anger towards Santiago. The man had only done his job as the Magistrado and had prosecuted the case fairly and within the law. It was not his fault Diego had done what he had done, it was only his duty to bring the charges and present the evidence. And Sebastian Vasca, the judge in this case, was a fair and impartial judge. His verdict was the only one possible given the evidence placed before him. Only the punishment was a surprise; exile for Diego instead of death. For just a fleeting moment, Don Alejandro wondered if death would not have been preferable. A clean and swift death. Now, with Diego's exile, he would have to face a future of uncertainty, knowing that his son, a convicted traitor, still walked the earth. Then he shook his head sadly. No. Even now he could not wish death for his son. He noticed that Judge Vasca had now left the room and Santiago was gathering up his documents and placing them in a portfolio. The Magistrado approached Don Alejandro as he made his way toward the exit.

"Señor de la Vega," said Santiago, with a small bow of respect. Don Alejandro looked up at him. "I deeply regret what transpired here today," he continued, indicating the "courtroom" with his hand. "I truly wish it could have been otherwise. If only your son had not joined the conspiracy, had not joined this masked bandit known as Zorro in an attempt to overthrow the lawful government of California, all this would never have happened. Your son and heir would not now be forced into exile . . ."

"Yes, yes, I know all that," said Don Alejandro sharply. "You do not have to bring it all up again. You did your duty, I know that." He stood, facing Santiago. "You will excuse me, Señor?" He turned to pick up his cloak lying across the back of his chair.

Santiago bowed again and said, "Of course, Señor." He nodded to the other dons, then walked out of the tavern and into the plaza.

As Don Alejandro settled the cloak over his shoulders, he felt afresh the shame washing over him from the conviction of his son as a traitor. Not for the first time, he cried within himself, _Diego, my son! What have you done?_ The echo of the silence was deafening. There was no answer but the one which came out of the trial. Diego had committed treason. Don Alejandro felt almost as though there was not enough air in the room as his despair settled more firmly down upon his shoulders, a despair that he was not sure would ever leave him. Slowly, he walked towards the door of the tavern, followed by the other dons.

Those men exchanged sorrowful looks behind his back. They knew that Don Alejandro's honor and his pride had taken a great blow this day. Privately, they wondered how it would affect him. Even more privately, they felt as though it would break him.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Santiago paused as he walked toward the Magistrado's office. In the plaza, the crowd was still gathered, watching the younger de la Vega being placed into the open wagon which would take him to his father's hacienda. Lancers were pushing some of the onlookers back as they yelled, "Traitor!", brandishing their fists. Santiago let a small smile play around his lips as he saw Lozano working behind the scenes in the crowd, saying a word here and there to increase their anger against the convicted prisoner. Other soldiers were escorting the deaf-mute to the cuartel where he would be kept until he could be hanged.

Santiago continued walking toward his office. Pausing at the foot of the stairs, he saw Don Alejandro coming out of the tavern, placing his hat upon his head. Some few of his friends walked with him over to his carriage, Don Alfredo among them. Already, Santiago could see how much Don Alejandro had aged since the trial had begun. Although the older man tried to walk stiffly erect, trying to maintain his proud bearing, his shoulders were uncharacteristically drooped down and his step had lost its vigor. He almost shuffled as he walked. Santiago continued up the stairs to his office thinking to himself, _This trial has been a death blow for the old man. He just doesn't know it yet._ And then he smiled in satisfaction. Despite the surprises this day had held, his plan was still essentially intact and he would see it through to completion.

On the way to his carriage, Don Alejandro passed by the wagon in which Diego was sitting. He glanced up at his son, and their eyes met. In that brief moment, Don Alejandro's very soul seemed to be pouring from his eyes and he swallowed often to keep from giving in to his overwhelming emotions. Then he turned away. As he walked on by the wagon, he felt a constricting band form around his heart when Diego, in a soft, but questing voice, said, "Father?" But Don Alejandro did not turn around. He kept walking on to his carriage where Raul was waiting to drive him home. He could not acknowledge Diego now. Not here. The vaquero opened the door of the carriage and Alejandro got in and sat down, looking straight ahead.

"Do you wish us to accompany you to your hacienda, Alejandro?" asked Don Alfredo.

"No, my friends. I just want to go home, away from here. There is nothing more you can do for me that you have not already done. Raul, drive on. Adios, my friends." The carriage began rolling away, leaving the dons to stare after it, shaking their heads. Soon after that, the wagon, carrying its prisoner and escorted by six lancers, pulled out of the plaza and started down the road to the de la Vega hacienda. The people watched the procession as long as they could, then began to drift off towards their homes or back to the tavern to have a glass of wine and talk about the morning's proceedings all over again. Soon, only Don Alfredo was left to stare at the place where the de la Vegas had disappeared from view.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Sergeant Garcia remained at the cuartel for a time, under orders to direct the soldiers building the gallows and to see that the prisoner, Bernardo, was placed in his cell. His heart was heavy as he went about his duty. He was very fond of "the little one" as he called Bernardo and would give anything not to have to be the one forced to carry out the sentence of execution which had been handed down by the judge this day. Capitán Hidalgo was in command, but Garcia had the feeling in the pit of his sizable stomach that he would be ordered to conduct the actual hanging. That was the military for you. He came out of the barracks to find some of the soldiers taunting Bernardo cruelly. They were making fun of him and poking at him with their swords. One soldier was using his lance. Garcia recognized them as being some of the soldiers from Santa Barbara. Since Bernardo could not hear or speak to defend himself, they were saying terrible things about his lineage and his intelligence as well as berating him for being the accomplice of a traitor. Bernardo was beside himself, not understanding what was being said and having to dodge the lance and the swords. Sergeant Garcia took one look and came charging over, grabbing the soldiers and forcing them back.

"Here! Here! Stop this at once!" he ordered loudly. "You soldiers are on report. All of you. I will not have you treating the prisoner like this. I order all of you to stay away from this prisoner unless I tell you otherwise. Now, go!" The soldiers put away their swords and left hastily. Garcia stood with his hands on his hips and watched them go. He would be so glad when those soldiers were gone. He prayed that it would be soon. Shaking his head, he muttered, "Idiosos." Turning to Bernardo, who had come to the bars of the cell, he said, "I am sorry, Little One. I do not know why they acted like that. But they won't do it again, I promise you." Seeing Bernardo's blank look, he said, "Still, I keep forgetting. You cannot hear me." Thinking hard, he made a motion of pointing away from the cell and then reached in through the bars and patted Bernardo on the head while smiling. Bernardo seemed to get the message and beamed his smile back at the Sergeant. Garcia looked at Bernardo and said, "You really don't know what is going to happen to you tomorrow do you?" Bernardo just cocked his head to one side. "It is just as well. It would only worry you more to know that you will be hanged. I just wish I didn't know what is to come. Maybe then I would be able to sleep tonight. As it is..." Garcia trailed off as he looked where the gallows was being built. Turning his attention back to Bernardo, he said, "Good bye, Little One. I will return in time for the hanging tomorrow. But now I must go to the de la Vega hacienda and make sure all is being done properly there. I asked the Magistrado to do me the favor of assigning me to watch over Don Diego. I do not want any of that bunch," here he jerked his thumb toward the Santa Barbara soldiers, "to be in charge. Don Diego was my friend." Sighing, he said, "If only your master had not done this bad thing." Shaking his head in sadness, the Sergeant went over to the stables to see if his horse was ready.

Bernardo watched him go. Playing the part of the deaf-mute servant of Diego de la Vega was proving to be very hard. The bars of his cell were very cold, and he could see the soldiers gathering the materials to build the gallows. His position was dire. He had wanted to tell the Sergeant that indeed he knew what was supposed to happen to him tomorrow, that he knew everything that was going on, but he still had his part to play. If he suddenly "acquired" the ability to hear, this would play even more into the Magistrado's hands by showing everyone that there were even more secrets Diego was hiding from his father and the people of Los Angeles. It would do their case no good whatsoever. Besides, he had something to hold on to. A promise made without words by his young master just today at the trial. When the judge had ordered Diego to be held at the de la Vega hacienda until the ship sailed tomorrow evening, he and Diego had exchanged a look. Bernardo could see by the look in Diego's eyes that he was vowing to his servant friend that somehow the real Zorro would ride tonight. _No, Sergeant Garcia,_ he thought to himself as he watched the portly man ride out of the cuartel, _Neither will I be sleeping this night. I will be watching for my friend to come._ He settled himself on the bench in his cell which passed for a bed and began watching.


	67. B3 Ch10: Again the Fox

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 3**

 **Chapter** **10 – _Again the Fox_**

Don Alejandro was standing by the fireplace in the sala when the soldiers brought Diego into the hacienda. Two soldiers were posted at the front gate of the hacienda, two were posted at the back and two soldiers accompanied Diego as he entered the hacienda. One of these was Corporal Reyes, and the other was Fuentes, the same lancer who had guarded him at the jail in Santa Barbara. He was Hidalgo's man, therefore he was Santiago's man. Diego knew that anything said here would be reported directly to the Magistrado. The three of them paused just at the step down into the sala.

Don Alejandro drew himself up, hands clasped behind his back. "Corporal, I would like to speak to my son. Would you wait by the door?" Seeing the Corporal's hesitation, he said, "I will personally guarantee the prisoner will not escape. And he will not be out of your sight." This seemed to satisfy the Corporal as he bowed to Don Alejandro and motioned for the other soldier to follow him. They both took up posts by the front door, muskets at the ready, their eyes never leaving Diego.

Don Alejandro walked over to stand by the desk in the sala so that his back was to the room. Diego, hands still shackled together in front of him, came to stand near his father. The tension between them was palpable. Finally, Don Alejandro began to speak without turning around. "I am glad your mother did not live to see this day," he said. "To think that a son of mine would so dishonor himself and his ancestry by committing treason against his own people. Such shame and dishonor is almost too much to bear." Alejandro turned to face Diego. "I just want to know one thing. Why? What made you do it? You had everything one could ask for. Money. Fine clothing. An irreproachable name." He waved his hand to encompass the rancho. "You would have inherited all of this with all the cattle and the horses. But this was not enough. So what was it, Diego?" Don Alejandro demanded. "What was it?"

"Father, you must believe me," Diego appealed, holding out his shackled hands. "Despite what you have heard, despite the evidence in the trial, I am not guilty of treason. Can you not find enough faith in me to believe that this is so?"

"I want to believe you," Don Alejandro proclaimed angrily. "But you will not answer my questions, nor are you able to deny the evidence of your treason when the money and the damning papers were discovered on your person. You have been found in the company of that traitorous outlaw Zorro. I heard all the evidence at the trial and you could deny none of it! What else am I to think? Diego, I am pleading with you. Give me a reason to have faith in you!"

As Diego looked deep into his father's eyes, he almost said it. He almost spoke of the secret life he had led since his return from Spain. But he could not say it in front of the soldiers whom he was sure were listening to their every word. That would forever end his chances of finding a way out of this trap which the scheming Santiago had forced him into. Although he did not know how at the moment, he _would_ find a way to clear his name and see Santiago imprisoned . . . or dead. To do that, he must still have his persona of El Zorro to call upon. Without that, he would be helpless. Also, to admit in front of the soldiers that he was Zorro would be a death sentence in and of itself.

So he closed his mouth and took a deep breath. Then he said, "I am sorry, Father. I cannot say any more than I have." Then Diego's voice changed and took on the timbre of El Zorro's, "But I promise you on the grave of my mother, whom we both love dearly, I am not guilty of treason."

Don Alejandro felt the power of his son's voice and wondered at it. But nothing between them had changed. He knew those things he had seen with his own eyes and he knew the evidence from the trial. Bottling up his anger and dismay, for he had already put on enough of a display before the soldiers, he glared at Diego. "There is nothing more to discuss then," he said in a voice which was cold and hard. "You will go to your room now. You may take with you whatever you wish when you leave tomorrow. It does not matter to me. Nothing matters to me anymore." Don Alejandro stepped forward two paces to stand by the fireplace, turning his back once more on Diego before speaking to the soldiers. "Corporal, you may take him away."

Both of the soldiers came down into the sala and stood beside Diego who remained looking at his father's back. Seeing that there was nothing more he could say, his shoulders dropped. His heart was cut to the quick by his father's lack of faith in him, but he did not blame his father nor become angry at his father's lack. No, Don Alejandro had been manipulated just as much as he had been. Everyone had been taken in by the serpent Magistrado. As Bernardo had said, it was the Magistrado who merited Diego's anger, not his father. Still, that did nothing to ease the almost overwhelming heaviness in his heart. Corporal Reyes pushed him gently with the tip of his musket and Diego walked out of the sala followed by his guards. Don Alejandro kept his attention on the fire crackling in the fireplace and did not watch Diego being led away.

The soldiers and Diego walked out into the patio and then up the stairs to his room in silence. Reyes opened the door and Diego walked in. It had been many days since he had been in his room and he looked around at the familiar surroundings. His eyes lingered on the panel which concealed the secret room. Behind that wall lay the only freedom that he could claim for now. As Zorro, he could still come and go as he wished, provided that he could manipulate the guards into leaving him alone in his room tonight. But he would wait until Sergeant Garcia came, then make his move. Garcia was much easier to convince than the dutiful Corporal.

Diego went and sat on his bed, swinging his feet up to rest upon the coverlet, leaning back against the head board with his hands in his lap. Speaking in lighter tones than he really felt, he said, "Make yourselves comfortable, Señores. We will not be going anywhere for quite a while."

Corporal Reyes looked at his companion and shrugged his shoulders. He set the butt of his musket on the floor and leaned on it. The other soldier relaxed and leaned back against the door post, holding his musket loosely.

Diego sighed to himself. He did not relish spending hours and hours being watched by these two, but there was nothing he could do until Sergeant Garcia arrived. He did not feel at all like talking, so he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, pretending to go to sleep.

In no way was he sleepy, however. His mind seethed with his thoughts. Foremost was the desire to clear his name and expose Santiago for the schemer and liar he was. But at the moment, he did not have any idea how to do that. He didn't even know the underlying reason as to why he had been framed for treason in the first place. In order to combat Santiago and clear his name, he would have to discover that first. As he thought about it, Santiago was perhaps even more formidable than the Eagle had been in that he was so very careful to maintain the outward appearance of a fair and honest man. Varga had been undone by his arrogant nature. He could not be other than who he was. Santiago was the chameleon, able to assume any demeanor necessary, making his moves behind the facade of his honorable nature, carrying out his nefarious plans in secret. It struck Diego then that he and Santiago shared this chameleon ability, for had not he, as Diego, changed into something he was not in order to do what he must as Zorro? The difference was that Santiago used his ability for evil and Diego used his for good. Diego was reminded then of the serpent engraved on the hilt of Santiago's sword. _"Now the serpent was more subtil than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made,"_ he quoted to himself. Yes, Jorgé Martinez Santiago was truly a serpent in the guise of a man.

How could he have worked along side Santiago for so long and fail to realize that all was not as it seemed? Again, Diego chided himself for his failure. The only thing he could find to say was that he had seen just what he had wanted to see. The opportunity to make a difference as himself and not as Zorro had proved to be too enticing. He wanted people to know he was not just the dandy hacendado of the pueblo and he wanted to make his father proud of him. It was a natural desire, was it not? And Santiago had given him what he wanted. He had presented himself as an honorable man, one who had the good of the people at heart. He was everything Diego thought a government official should be. He was meticulous to gather all the facts in a case before making a ruling and was fair in his dealings with the people no matter what their station in life. The peon received just as much justice as did the large landholders. Diego had been gratified to work with such a man.

Mentally, Diego shook his head. He should have paid more attention to Bernardo's doubts. His faithful servant had kept a healthy skepticism about the Magistrado. Bernardo didn't know any more about Santiago's ulterior plans than Diego had known, but he, nevertheless, was wary of the man. From now on, if they got out of this, Diego promised to pay more heed to Bernardo's assessment of the people whom they met. The little mozo was right more often than not. More often than Diego, it seemed.

This brought up the first thing he must do. He must free Bernardo tonight. Bernardo was depending upon Diego to save him from the gallows. And by the Saints, he would. He would bring Bernardo back to Zorro's cave and then decide what his next course of action would be. At this point, he only knew one thing for certain, he would not let his servant, his friend, die on the gallows.

The hours passed slowly. Diego got up and walked around the room a few times to keep from getting stiff and finally took a book and sat down in a chair to read. It was hard to remain so confined when there was so much he wanted to do. But he'd had some experience at waiting for just the right time to act, and so schooled himself to calmness. Corporal Reyes and the other lancer were having a hard time staying awake. At length, Diego heard the booming voice of Sergeant Garcia as he spoke to the guards outside the hacienda. He put the book down and waited. The two soldiers heard Garcia also and straightened up, trying to look more attentive. Diego suppressed a small smile at the display. The heavy, measured tread of the Sergeant soon came up the stairs and across the balcony in front of Diego's bedroom door.

There was a moment's pause and then the door opened slowly as Sergeant Garcia rather timidly put his head in first, peering around the door. Diego greeted the sergeant warmly. "Come in, Sergeant. Come in."

Hearing that, Garcia came the rest of the way into the room. He took off his hat. Even though Diego was a convicted criminal, Garcia still felt uneasy just barging into the young don's room. He was relieved at Diego's greeting. He had his duties to perform, but he had been afraid Diego would be angry with him.

"Don Diego," he said, acknowledging Diego. Then he turned to face Corporal Reyes. "Report, Corporal."

Reyes looked blankly at Garcia. "Report? Report what?" Unseen by Garcia, Fuentes rolled his eyes heavenward but kept his silence.

"Report what you have been doing, stupid," said Garcia rolling his eyes.

Reyes looked slowly at the other lancer and back again before he said, "We haven't been doing anything, Sergeant. We've just been standing here guarding Don Diego like you told us."

Exasperated, Garcia said, "That is just what I mean. You've been guarding Don Diego."

Still not sure just what the Sergeant wanted, Reyes said, "Sí, just like you told us."

"Well, did anything happen while you were guarding Don Diego?" asked Garcia.

"Should something have happened, Sergeant? Because nothing did."

"Nothing did?"

"Sí, nothing happened the whole time we were here unless you want to count Don Diego taking a nap and reading a book."

Shaking his head and rolling his own eyes heavenward, Garcia said, "Never mind." Turning to Diego, he said, "Don Diego. His Excellency, the Magistrado, said that I am to tell you the _Santa Antonia_ will be sailing on the afternoon tide. You are to be ready with whatever possessions you are going to take by noon tomorrow."

"Thank you, Sergeant," said Diego. "But, emm, . . . it will be difficult to pack while my hands are still shackled." He held up his hands for Garcia to see.

"Oh, of course, Don Diego," said Garcia. As Diego stood, he pulled the little key from under his banda and proceeded to unlock Diego's handcuffs, handing them to Reyes when they were off.

Diego rubbed his wrists gratefully. He was very happy to be rid of those vile things. "Now, Sergeant, I can pack my things for the trip," he said lightly. Opening his armoire, he pulled out a valise and put it upon his bed. Slowly and methodically, he put various items in the valise. He found he was somewhat amused to see Garcia and the lancers watching with rapt attention everything he was doing. Two extra suits of clothing. His blue robe. His other pair of boots. His shaving kit. A hair brush and his toothbrush. A book of poetry. Going to his dresser drawer, he pulled out a set of rosary beads and a bible. "These were my mother's," he told the men as he placed them gently in the valise. Then he closed the valise and placed it upon the dresser by the bedroom door.

"That is all you are taking?" asked Sergeant Garcia.

"Sí, that is all Sergeant. Oh, except for this." Diego reached back into the dresser drawer and pulled out a small pouch. "It is some few pesos my mother left to me. I will take that if it is not against the rules."

"Oh no, Don Diego, it is not against the rules. Judge Vasca said you could take anything your father would allow." Pointing to the pouch, he said, "That is not very much, is it, Don Diego?"

"No, Sergeant. It is not. But it is all I have."

Sergeant Garcia felt badly for Diego. To have to leave his father's rancho and go out into the world with only a few pesos and with only what you could carry in one valise was sad indeed. Garcia was used to having nothing, but Diego had always had everything. How would the young don survive? Then Garcia reminded himself that Don Diego had brought all of this down upon himself by conspiring against the King. But it was sad, nevertheless. Garcia sighed.

Diego was watching his old friend closely and guessed what the man might be thinking. He was sure that he could play upon the Sergeant's sympathy to get what he wanted for tonight. After almost two years of close association with Garcia, he knew how to convince him to do almost anything he wanted.

Garcia addressed the lancers. "Corporal Reyes. You two will stand guard here until midnight when I will send replacements. At that time, you will return to the cuartel. Tomorrow you will form the escort when we hang, . . . oh, excuse me Don Diego," said the Sergeant, turning a shade of red.

"It's all right, Sergeant," said Diego. "I know you are just doing your duty." Garcia looked relieved. "But I do have one request," he continued.

"If it is within my power, Don Diego," said Garcia.

"I wish to have one more peaceful night, here, in my own bed," said Diego indicating his bedroom. "Could you post the guards outside the door tonight instead of inside my room? They can guard me just as well from there, and then I won't be awakened when the guard is changed in the middle of the night. It is my last night here after all, and I will never be able to sleep here again." He looked quietly at the Sergeant.

Garcia's heart was melted. Convicted criminal though Don Diego was, he was still the man who had befriended Garcia the most out of the whole pueblo. What he asked was simple enough to do. "Of course, Don Diego." Turning back to Reyes, he said, "Corporal, you two will stand guard outside the door. See that you do not disturb Don Diego before morning."

Reyes nodded and he and the other guard opened the door and stepped out to take up their new posts. Secretly, he was glad not to have to stay in the bedroom any longer. He was just doing his job in guarding Don Diego, but he did not have to like it. Being outside would give him something else to think about. He did not notice that Fuentes had positioned himself next to the open door of the bedroom, but Diego had seen this and knew he still had to be careful about what he said.

Back within the bedroom, Sergeant Garcia was unsure what to do next. Things could never be the same between he and Don Diego, but he did not want to leave without saying something to him. "Don Diego, . . ." he started and then stopped. "I . . ."

Attentive to the Sergeant's every word, Diego said, "Yes, Sergeant?"

Garcia tried again. "What I mean is . . ."

Diego put his hand on the Sergeant's shoulder and said, "I understand, Sergeant. I know that you are carrying out your orders just as you should. You have always been a good soldier for the King." Garcia smiled and nodded in agreement. "I know you do not believe the charges against me and that you know I am a loyal subject of His Majesty." Garcia nodded uncertainly this time. He was still confused over the whole issue. The Magistrado had presented his evidence and the judge had convicted Don Diego. That is all he knew. But Diego was his friend, too. "Do not worry about me, my friend. I will be all right," continued Diego. "But I would ask just one more thing."

"What is that, Don Diego?"

"I want you to promise to look after my father for me. See that he is well and offer to help him when he needs it. I will no longer be able to do this myself, and I can think of no one I would rather ask than you, Demetrio."

"Oh, sí, Don Diego, sí!" said Garcia, beaming. "I promise to take care of your father for you." Garcia was warmed by the use of his first name and by Diego's confidence in him to be given such a responsibility. "I will do my best."

"Graciás. I can ask for nothing more than that," said Diego, holding out his hand. Garcia took it and they shook hands. Then Diego and he stood there a moment more before the sergeant spoke.

"I must be going now, Don Diego. I have many things to do. The Magistrado, he wants everything ready on time. He has become such a hard man since the trial. But I will be here in the morning to escort you to the ship."

Bowing slightly, Diego said, "Until then, Sergeant."

Garcia bowed in return and then, putting his hat back on, he went out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Diego watched Garcia pass by his window. He would have to be sure to draw the curtains before he left tonight, he reminded himself. He would wait until after the midnight guard change just to make sure no one took it upon themselves to check on him despite the Sergeant's orders. He could not afford to have anyone discover him missing.

To pass the hours, Diego picked up his book again.


	68. B3 Ch11: Bernardo's Deliverance

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 3**

 **Chapter** **11 – _Bernardo's Deliverance_**

Pippa pushed the last of her belongings into the cloth satchel which had been hers for so long. It had been returned to the Magistrado's house along with the rest of Señora Gracilia's luggage from the broken coach. Pippa was leaving this place. Here, all she could think about was the death of her mistress and how horrible it had all been. She would go back to Mexico City and try to find her relatives. She had no one in California with whom she could stay, and she would not stay one night longer in the house of Señor Santiago. He had never shown her more than the barest civility as she had cared for his dying wife, and she would be well gone from this place. She did not think Señor Santiago would trouble himself to look for her, most likely counting himself fortunate that she had gone. Besides, after seeing the Magistrado as he laughed in the darkness on that terrible night, she feared him all the more.

As she pushed the last garment into her bag, her hand touched the folded paper of the note which Gracilia had given her before that ill-fated coach ride. She had forgotten she had put it there in the chaos which followed the death of Señora Gracilia. Now, she pulled the paper out and stared at it. Her first thought was to burn it and forget that she had ever seen it. But then, she thought about Gracilia and how much the young woman had desired it should be given to one or the other of the de la Vega's. Pippa remembered her promise to her mistress and how Gracilia had hugged her neck and praised her as she called her a friend. She felt ashamed now because she had betrayed that friendship. Taking a deep breath, Pippa decided that she would keep her promise and deliver the note. It was the right thing to do to honor her mistress' last wish and honor Gracilia's faith in her. However, taking the note to Diego de la Vega was out of the question. Never would she be allowed to see him, nor did she want to, for he was a criminal, but the father . . . .

Yes. She would do this for Señora Gracilia. _May she rest in peace,_ Pippa thought to herself. She would walk to the de la Vega hacienda and leave the note there for the father. She would keep her promise and her soul could then be at rest. With that done, she would walk all the way to San Pedro. There she would take the little money she had saved up and buy a ticket on the next boat to Mexico. She hoped she had enough. But no matter, she was not going to stay in California, and one way or another she would find her way home. She paused as she heard the town crier through the open window as he called out the hour of ten o'clock while he made his rounds of the plaza. She blew out the candle in the bedroom and walked in the darkness to the doorway. Peering out, she looked around the dimly lit house and saw no one about. Quietly she stole to the back door and slipped outside. She did not know where Señor Santiago might be. She did not care. She only wanted to get away from his house without being seen. Quickly, she disappeared into the night.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Swiftly, Zorro rode through the countryside. Tornado still wore bits of the white paint which Diego had not had time to wash off. It gave the great stallion a rather flea-bitten appearance. He had found the stallion right where they had left him with the brood mares. He came readily to Diego's soft whistle. They quickly renewed their acquaintance, then Diego jumped up on Tornado bareback and rode him to the cave. With a soft cloth, he had worked swiftly to rub the paint away from the ebony hide while Tornado enjoyed a helping of oats. With most of the paint taken off, Diego had run back up the stairs to change into his Zorro costume, first checking to make sure all was quiet with the guards. The change was made in haste, for he must be as quick as possible to go and return. He shrugged into Zorro's clothing, not even taking the time to realize that it had been such a long while since the last time he had worn them. He had too much on his mind. Drawing the cape around him and tying off the cords, he ran back down the stairs and had Tornado saddled in a moment. Then they were off to the pueblo to rescue Bernardo. As he rode across the countryside, he realized there was one thing in his favor. He smiled grimly at the thought that Santiago did not have any experience with the true masked man's abilities and so would not have taken any extra precautions to keep him from getting to Bernardo. He was also sure that Sergeant Garcia should be no more trouble to handle than usual. After a while, Zorro guided Tornado onto the road which led to the pueblo. It might be more dangerous, but it would save some time rather than continuing cross country.

Suddenly, Tornado leaped to one side as he narrowly avoided running down someone who was walking along the road, heading in the opposite direction, away from Los Angeles. Zorro pulled the stallion to a plunging stop as he whirled him around to see who they had barely missed. It was a woman. She screamed when she saw him.

"Zorro! Aiee! Please do not hurt me, Señor! I have nothing!" she cried, cowering on the edge of the road.

Zorro rode Tornado toward the woman, trying to see who she was. "I will not hurt you," he said as gently as he could. But his action had quite the opposite effect than the one he desired. Throwing up her hands, the woman dropped her cloth satchel and sent something white fluttering into the air. Crying out again, the woman plunged into the brush along the side of the road and ran away. Zorro could hear her running. His attention was drawn back to the road again as the white object landed on the ground next to the satchel. Looking all around to see if anyone had heard the woman's screams, Zorro dismounted and knelt to pick up the folded paper. It was too dark to read its contents, but he could see there was some writing on the outside of it. By looking closely, he could just make out that it was addressed to Diego. He stood and looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman again, but she was gone. Other than Tornado's breathing and his own, there were no sounds, not even the crickets. Knowing that he could not follow the woman and rescue Bernardo at the same time, he paused only long enough to tuck the note into his banda and quickly mount Tornado, sending the stallion charging down the road once again. The contents of the note would just have to wait. He had more important things on his mind now. He just hoped that the woman had not harmed herself as she had run away.

When Zorro reached the pueblo, he circled around and rode up to the back wall of the cuartel. Using Tornado as a ladder as he had in times past, he climbed up to the top of the wall and then down onto the roof of the stable. Motioning Tornado to hide in the trees, Zorro took his first survey of the of the cuartel yard from his vantage point. There was one guard propped up on his musket in front of Bernardo's jail cell who looked as though he was about to fall asleep. There were two more guards posted by the cuartel gates. The rest of the compound was silent and dark. The two guards by the gate were going to be his biggest problem. There was no cover for him to use to try and get close enough to knock them out without the first guard seeing him. He would have to knock out the guard posted at the cell by leaping on him from above and hope that the shadows were too deep for the other two to notice. Then he would have to find a way to deal with them.

From below, one of the horses in the stable snorted and an idea formed in Zorro's mind. With a plan of action, he moved over the rooftop until he was directly over Bernardo's cell. He positioned himself and dropped silently on top of the guard and knocked him out. Zorro did not want the other soldiers to miss their companion should they look in his direction, so he grabbed the man and motioned to Bernardo who had seen the whole thing. "Hold him," he said in a whisper. Bernardo nodded and embraced the unconscious soldier from behind by putting his arms through the bars of the cell. Zorro picked up the soldier's hat and jammed it back on the man's head. Waving at a smiling Bernardo, Zorro slipped into the stable. Another of the horses snorted as he moved in between them. Moving carefully and quietly, Zorro untied the horses one by one and gave them a push. Then he moved back into a corner and hid in the shadows.

The horses ambled out into the open. One of the guards by the gate said, "Hey look! The horses are loose. We'd better get them back in the stable." Both of them started towards the horses. "Lupe! You come and help us too," one of them called out as they tried to round up the horses. Bernardo was in a bit of a panic. He was at a loss as to what to do because the guard was looking directly at the man he was holding up. Fortunately, he remained hidden behind the unconscious soldier. Thinking quickly, he managed to grab Lupe's arm by the elbow and cause it to wave back and forth. In the darkness, it looked as though Lupe was waving them off, not willing to participate in the horse round up. Or at least that is what Bernardo was hoping it would look like. The other guard shook his head in irritation and growled, "Wait until you need help next time, Lupe," as he went about his business of catching the horses. Behind the unconscious Lupe, Bernardo sighed in relief.

Just as Zorro hoped, the two guards led the horses back into the dark stable. It was the work of only a few moments to knock out both of them and hide them under some hay. He quickly made his way back to Bernardo whose grip on Lupe was slipping despite all he could do. He got to the man just in time to help lay him gently to the ground. This soldier was also dragged into the stable and covered with hay. Then Zorro was back. "The keys?" he whispered to Bernardo through the bars. Bernardo motioned that they were in the commandanté's office.

Smiling, Zorro said in a low voice, "Wait here," leaving Bernardo to stand with his hands on his hips in disbelief at Zorro's attempt at humor. Zorro flowed over the ground and up to the door of the commandanté's office. Looking around to see that no one was watching, he opened the door and slipped inside. Thankfully, his eyes were adjusted to the darkness and he could just make out the shape of the key ring on the desk. Zorro knew Capitán Hidalgo was sleeping in the next room and he would need to be very quiet. On another night he might have confronted the commandanté, but tonight he had only one thing on his mind and that was to free Bernardo. He picked up the key ring very carefully and slipped back outside once again. So far, so good. In a moment, he was back at the cell unlocking the door. Clapping Bernardo on the shoulder, he whispered, "Come, my friend. Let us be away from here!" Bernardo nodded enthusiastically and together the two of them ran over to some crates which were stacked by the corner of the stable. Zorro stacked several on top of one another and made a kind of ramp. Motioning to Bernardo to go in front of him, they began to climb.

The pile of crates was very unstable and Bernardo was not sure it would hold up until they got up on the roof. He held his breath as he climbed. He scrambled up to stand on the roof and reached down to lend a hand to Zorro. Zorro had just clambered onto the roof beside Bernardo when the pile of crates fell over with a large crash. The two of them froze for just a moment, then Zorro said, "Let's go!" pointing to the cuartel wall. They ran stumbling across the curved roof tiles of the jail. As they reached the wall, Zorro said, "I will go first and catch you when you jump." Bernardo nodded and Zorro leaped down. Bernardo turned as he heard a shout from across the cuartel. Sergeant Garcia had run out into the yard, clad only in his long underwear, and had spotted the escapee on the rooftop.

"Guards!" Garcia shouted, pointing to the roof. "Guards! The prisoner! He is escaping! After him!"

Some of the lancers, who began pouring out of the barracks, had somehow managed to grab their muskets in the disorder and now aimed them where the Sergeant was pointing. In the excitement, their shots went wild, but Bernardo took no time to think about that or to give them time to improve their aim. Trusting to his master to catch him, he jumped blindly over the wall. The masked man did not fail him and he soon found himself safely on the ground. Zorro whistled for Tornado and leaped up into the saddle almost before the stallion came to a halt. Reaching back, he helped Bernardo pull himself up behind the saddle. Tornado sounded a trumpeting call as Zorro sent him into a flying run away from the pueblo. Bernardo had to hang on to Zorro for dear life as they headed into the rough countryside.

Back in the cuartel, Sergeant Garcia was beside himself. He could hear the neighing of the horse outside the walls of the cuartel and its hoof beats as Bernardo rode away. Garcia fancied that he remembered the horse's neigh. It sounded so very familiar to him. It sounded like the neigh of Zorro's horse. He looked back at the empty cell. Now that his prisoner had escaped, there would be no one to hang in the morning. Correction, the prisoner might not be hanged, but a certain sergeant just might be. Looking at the office, he could see Capitán Hidalgo storming out of his quarters, trying to shrug into his coat as he was holding his sword at the same time. The look on his face was not pleasant. Garcia thought he could feel the noose tightening even now, and felt of his own neck with both hands to make sure nothing was really there.

"Garcia!" Hidalgo shouted. "Just what is going on here? Where are the guards?"

Before Garcia could answer, he saw the Magistrado hurrying in through the gates of the cuartel. He was dressed and carried his naked sword in his hand. Its blade flashed in the torch lights.

"Sergeant!" Santiago called. "What is going on here? What was all that shooting?"

Nervously, Garcia said, "I'm sorry, Your Excellency, but the prisoner has escaped."

"Escaped!" Santiago exclaimed.

"Sí, Your Excellency," affirmed Garcia, looking at the ground in embarrassment.

"Just how did that happen, Sergeant?" snapped Santiago. "Didn't you have lancers posted in the cuartel to guard the prisoner?"

"Oh, sí, Your Excellency!" said Garcia. "But that doesn't always do much good when Zorro wants in. Why, I remember the time when . . ."

"Enough!" said Santiago gripping the hilt of his sword more tightly. Garcia stopped speaking and Santiago studied the sergeant for a moment. "Just what makes you think Zorro was here?" he asked. "Did you see him?" As he spoke, he was considering Uresti. Surely the man had not lost his mind and done something totally insane like freeing the servant? Santiago glanced at Hidalgo who gave a small shrug.

"No, Your Excellency, I did not see him, but I heard his horse neigh," said Garcia.

"You . . . heard . . . his horse?" asked Santiago, not believing what he was hearing. It was not Uresti who was insane, it was this fool of a sergeant.

"Oh, Sí, Your Excellency," Garcia said with confidence. "I would know that horse's neigh anywhere. Many is the time I have heard it in my sleep."

Santiago could only stare at the Sergeant. Then he shook his head. "Baboso," he said.

Garcia was unhappy again. This was the first time he had disappointed the Magistrado. He had not been called baboso in such a long time. "Sí, Your Excellency," he said sadly.

Santiago digested everything for a moment. The mute servant of the de la Vegas should hang at noon this very day. But, perhaps, here was something more which he could use to cause unrest among the people. He turned to Hidalgo. "Capitán, I am convinced that Zorro came to free an accomplice," he announced, noting the nods of the soldiers gathered around them listening. There was an increasing number of people at the cuartel gates who had heard his pronouncement as well. He continued. "Bernardo was convicted of participating in the crimes of young de la Vega and Zorro is the mastermind behind the whole conspiracy. Zorro came to rescue one of his own. I am certain of it." He saw understanding in Hidalgo's eyes. Hidalgo nodded once.

"Do you think, so, Your Excellency?" asked Garcia.

"Do I think so?" said Santiago. "I know so!" Then he peered at Garcia closely. "Why aren't you in pursuit of the prisoner? Why are you just standing here?" the Magistrado demanded.

"But, Your Excellency, don't you remember? You came and started asking questions and I had to stay to answer them."

"Never mind that, Garcia! Just get going. And don't come back without that little deaf-mute. And Zorro! Do you hear me?" Santiago ordered, putting on a fair show of being angry.

Sergeant Garcia snapped to attention and saluted smartly. "Sí, Your Excellency! We will leave at once!" Despite the fear of his own hanging, Garcia was nevertheless glad the "little one" had not been shot while escaping. Gathering his wits about him, he shouted at the lancers to get dressed and mount their horses in order to pursue the escaped prisoner. He ran back into his quarters to follow his own orders.

Shortly, they were all back in the cuartel yard. "Lancers! Mount up!" Garcia called as he ran to his horse and also mounted. The gates were opened and the lancers left at the gallop, Garcia in the lead. The Sergeant would do his best to find Zorro and Bernardo, but he didn't hold out much hope. They had never captured Zorro before, and he didn't think they would tonight, either. But he had his orders and would follow them as well as he was able.

Santiago gazed at the empty jail cell for a few moments before he turned and looked back at Hidalgo, who had remained by his side. He did not like this. He did not like this at all. He needed Bernardo dead. The little deaf-mute had been marked for death ever since that incident at Lozano's store. And Zorro? He snorted. Zorro was nowhere near the pueblo. Uresti was occupied with his little señorita in an out of the way mud hut in the back waters of San Pedro. Uresti would be far too busy with her to have done anything so foolish as this. Garcia was mistaken. But who would have come and freed Bernardo? What could be someone's interest in the little deaf-mute? Santiago's blood ran cold when he suddenly thought about Diego de la Vega. What if this same someone had gone to the de la Vega hacienda and freed Diego? What if there was some friend of Diego's who had taken it upon himself to rescue the prisoner? That would be disastrous indeed. This whole episode with the servant might be a diversion to occupy the lancers and the Magistrado while Diego was rescued by this unknown. "Get your horse and meet me in front of my house right away," he ordered Hidalgo. Wasting no time, Santiago left the cuartel and hurried to his home where he rousted his servant, Roberto, ordering him to ready his horse. In moments, he and Hidalgo were on their way in the darkness to the de la Vega rancho.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Zorro and his passenger had little trouble eluding the lancers who were searching for them. The soldiers were soon lost to them in the pre-dawn darkness. They arrived in the cave safely. Bernardo slipped down from Tornado first and rubbed his nether regions as he walked around quite stiffly at first.

"A bumpy ride, eh?" said Zorro, smiling as he dismounted. Bernardo gave him a look. Then he relented and made some motions with his hands.

"You're welcome, my friend," said Zorro, slapping his mozo on the back. "The gallows in the plaza shall not claim its victim today." Bernardo nodded happily, then motioned once more. "Yes. Zorro lives again. The real Zorro, not some imposter," said the masked man with some satisfaction. "And now, we shall get some answers as to why all of this was done to us. We know the Magistrado is a devious man, and has some larger plan in mind than this mockery of a trial to which we have been subjected. We must find out what it is. But first, I must play out my part as Diego the exiled, or Señor Santiago might move against my father as he has threatened to do. I must allow Diego de la Vega to be placed onboard the Santa Antonia and sail away from here on the afternoon tide. Everyone, including Señor Santiago, must believe that Diego will never return to California. Then I can return here undercover and, as Zorro, smoke out the rat which infests our Magistrado's office."

Bernardo wanted to know just how Diego was going to escape being confined to the ship. Zorro laughed, "I do not know how he will do that, my friend. That is what makes life so interesting." He patted Tornado on the neck as he said to Bernardo, "You must stay in the cave. No one must know you are here. You can go into the store room at the hacienda and get what food you need and anything else you think you might want. But be careful not to be seen. And don't let the pilfering look too obvious." Bernardo nodded. Zorro pushed back his hat and removed his head cloth and mask. "I will return as soon as I can," he said. Bernardo made a sign that Diego seemed pretty self-confident.

"Yes, I am," Diego replied, his mood more sober now. "No man who uses the law to convict innocent men and who threatens to harm others should be allowed to continue as Magistrado. The fact that it was I who was convicted is secondary. But the threat to my father, that I cannot permit. I must be here to protect him from Señor Santiago, whatever his schemes might be. And who knows what else the Magistrado has in mind? He has already killed his wife and others. He must be stopped. I must also stop the man who uses Zorro's name for evil. Do not worry. I _will_ find a way to escape the ship and I _will_ return here . . . or die trying."

Bernardo noted the hardness in Diego's voice. He did not doubt but that Diego would return. Then a thought occurred to him. _"Wait here,"_ he motioned.

"What is it?" asked Diego, but Bernardo disappeared into the tunnels. He was back in a few moments. Handing Diego a small metallic object, he motioned that he should take it with him. Diego examined the object. Bernardo made the motions of picking a locked door. "Ah," said Diego with a smile. "A very useful item, this." Bernardo nodded happily and pointed to his own shoe. "Yes, I will put this in my shoe. Graciás, my friend." Diego slapped Bernardo fondly on the shoulder.

Diego then pointed to the stallion. "Take care of Tornado and see if you cannot get the rest of that paint off him, will you? We must keep up appearances." Bernardo smiled and nodded. Diego continued, "I am off to change and climb back into bed. The sleeping beauty must be there when the guards come to awaken him. I will see you in a week or so." He clasped Bernardo's shoulder fondly. "Take care of yourself until then, eh?" Bernardo smiled also and put his hand on Diego's caped shoulder in return and gave it an affectionate squeeze. Then, as Diego walked away toward the tunnel leading up to his bedroom, Bernardo waved goodbye.

With a last salute to his servant, Diego ran lightly up the stairs to the secret room to change. He tossed the black hat onto the table upturned, placing his gloves and mask within it. As he undressed, he found the note in his banda which the woman on the road had left behind. He dropped it on top of the mask in the hat as he continued to change. He would take a moment to read it when he was dressed as Diego again. As he finished, he checked his bedroom through the spy hole to see that everything was quiet. It appeared so. Quickly, he opened the note and tried to read it by the dim lamp light. The handwriting was obviously that of a woman's, but it was very difficult to read, as though the woman's hand had been trembling as she wrote.

 _Diego,  
You are in danger. My husband means to charge you with treason. Do not go to Santa Barbara. Stay away from Zorro. Lozano is in league with Jorgé. Watch out for him. Warn Don Alfredo. Protect his child from Uresti-Zorro.I overheard them talking. They want you dead. Jorgé will destroy your father's soul. Jorgé wants all the land. Your father's land. All the land of California. Be careful, Diego, be careful. You are in danger . . ." _

The note trailed off at that point with a long smear of ink. Underneath, there was a signature. The name was scrawled so badly that he could barely make it out. He thought it was Gracilia's name. Then beneath it, he made out the words, _burro's confession._ This confirmed the identity of the note's author.

Before he had time to digest what the note said he stopped, for he thought he had heard voices out in the patio. Dropping the note on top of his mask again, he checked his room through the spy hole. Seeing no one, he slipped in through the secret panel which closed behind him. Going quickly to the window, he peeked out between the curtains. It was Santiago and Capitán Hidalgo. Santiago was questioning one of the guards near the patio gates and pointing to Diego's room. Then the two of them started quickly up the stairs.

Diego closed the curtains and shed his dressing robe, diving for the covers of his bed. He tousled his hair and relaxed as though he had been sleeping the whole time. Mere moments later, the door to his room burst open and Santiago and Hidalgo swept in followed by the guards from outside his door. Diego sat up as though he had been awakened and leaned back against the headboard of the bed. "What is it?" he asked sleepily. "What is happening?"

Santiago was relieved. Young de la Vega was still his captive. "Bring a light!" he snapped to one of the guards. A lamp was lit and its soft glow brightened the room. Addressing the guards while continuing to look at Diego, he said, "Lancers, I want you to stand guard in this room. You are not to let this man out of your sight for a moment. Do you understand?"

"Sí, Magistrado. Sí." they responded.

Just then, Don Alejandro appeared at the door in his dressing robe. "What is going on?" he demanded.

"Nothing to worry about, Señor de la Vega," said Santiago, bowing to Don Alejandro. "I just felt the need to check upon the prisoner in light of certain events at the pueblo. Everything is under control, Señor. You may return to your bed."

Don Alejandro glared at Diego for a long moment as if he were the cause of all the commotion and then turned to leave. Diego was extremely sorry to see his father upset, but he was rather content to have disrupted the Magistrado's sleep.


	69. B3 Ch12: A Traitor's Exile

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 3**

 **Chapter** **12 – _A Traitor's Exile_**

The time had come.

Sergeant Garcia was at the hacienda with his escort of lancers and a wagon to take Diego to the ship. They were waiting by the front gate. Earlier, Diego had shaved and dressed and had eaten the food brought to him. Now he was just sitting on the edge of his bed waiting. He had not seen his father all day. He wondered if Don Alejandro would be there to see him off or if he would stay away. Somehow, he would not be surprised if the latter was true, but he hoped with all his heart that he was wrong. He stood as he heard Sergeant Garcia coming up the stairs and walking up to his door.

"Lancers!" the Sergeant called out sharply. "Open the door!"

One of the guards opened the door and Garcia walked in. He was trying to be very officious and very serious. He addressed Diego. "Don Diego, it is time to go. The ship will be leaving at four o'clock and we must be there on time. If you will hold out your hands. Please?"

"Must we, Sergeant?" said Diego, standing with his hands behind his back. "What if I were to promise I will not try to escape?" Diego despised the idea of having those handcuffs put on him again.

"I am sorry, Don Diego, but His Excellency, the Magistrado, said you were to wear these even on board the ship." Seeing the dark look on Diego's face, he held the cuffs out as he said, "Please do not make trouble, Don Diego. Let me put them on. I will have to, one way or the other." Sighing, Diego reluctantly held out his hands. It was the work of just a moment for Garcia to secure the handcuffs around his wrists. Diego held them up and looked at them in disgust. Swallowing, Garcia said, "Lancer pick up that valise and follow us down." Turning back to Diego, he said, "If you please?" pointing to the door. Diego walked out, flanked by two of the soldiers who held their muskets at the ready. Garcia led the way across the balcony and down the stairs.

Diego looked around the courtyard of the patio, but did not see his father anywhere. When he reached the foot of the stairs, he looked toward the doorway of the sala and saw many of the hacienda's servants and some of the vaqueros with their hats in their hands, watching him. Raul, Benito, Pepito Old Juan, and Crescensia were among them. They, and many of the others, men and women alike, were crying. Diego was deeply touched by this, but he controlled his emotions. What he really wanted was to see his father. The lancers pushed him with their muskets and he was forced to move on. He walked with quiet dignity to the wagon and got in. The lancer placed the valise in the back of the wagon, then went around the wagon and climbed up. He would be the one driving.

Santiago was there at the head of the soldiers who would form the escort to San Pedro. His horse pranced beneath him and he swung the animal around so that he could keep Diego within his sight. There was a look of cold satisfaction on his face to which Diego took great exception. However, there was nothing he could do about it. Not yet. Giving Santiago one last glance, Diego turned to look back at the hacienda, but in vain. The one he wished to see was not there.

Sergeant Garcia mounted his horse and Santiago gave the orders for the procession to begin. Slowly they pulled away from the hacienda and moved along the road. As they approached the first bend in the roadway, Diego looked back one more time. His heart leaped as he saw the lone figure of his father standing in the middle of the road, watching them ride away. Don Alejandro did not wave, nor did Diego, but both men looked at each other as long as they could see. Then the trees and brush closed in and the hacienda was lost from sight.

Diego found that he had a large lump in his throat and his eyes were smarting. This parting was such a different one from the time he had gone to Spain. That had been a happy time, though the parting caused both he and his father to share a long embrace and not a few tears. This time he was leaving his father to think that he was a traitor to his country and his King. For Don Alejandro, there could be no worse fate than the shame of having such a man for a son. Diego sighed, wiping at his eyes. Then he just stared at the floorboard of the wagon as it bumped and rocked along. What he could not see was that after the wagon disappeared around the curve in the road, Don Alejandro's face was wet with the tears that ran down his face. Nor did Diego see how long Don Alejandro stood looking at the place where he had last seen his son disappear from his sight. The man who at last turned and walked back into the hacienda was not the same man who had once faced the Eagle and his band of henchmen. This man's heart was broken and his shoulders were bent with the sorrow he bore.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

The trip to San Pedro was a long one and it would take nearly three hours to get there by the slow wagon. About halfway there, Sergeant Garcia dropped back even with the wagon. He felt sorry for Diego because he, too, had looked back to see Don Alejandro watch his son being taken away. He had also seen Diego wiping his eyes. However, he was not going to mention anything about it to Diego. Garcia wanted to do something though, so he offered his canteen.

"Don Diego, would you like some water?" he asked.

"Graciás, Sergeant," said Diego, taking the canteen and drinking.

"I know it is not wine, but water is good to quench one's thirst also, is it not?" said Garcia, trying to make small talk.

Garcia chuckled nervously as he took the canteen back and looped the strap over his saddle horn. They continued riding along in silence as Garcia tried to think of something else to say. But Diego was the first one to speak.

"Sergeant, you do not have to tell me if you don't want to, but I was wondering about Bernardo. Is he . . .?"

Garcia was glad to have some good news to tell Diego. "Oh no, Don Diego! Your little mozo was not hanged today."

"Not hanged?" said Diego, faking complete surprise. "What happened?"

"Zorro came in the night and took him away. The Magistrado, he is very mad about that."

"Zorro? Zorro took Bernardo away? Does anyone know where they have gone?" Diego continued to act surprised.

"No, Don Diego. No one knows. Whoever knows where Zorro goes when he does not want to be found? The Magistrado had us all out searching for them in the dark hours of the morning. Of course, we didn't find anything." Here Sergeant Garcia yawned mightily. "I could use some sleep."

"So Bernardo was not hanged? You will excuse me, Sergeant, if I am not saddened by this news?" said Diego.

"Oh, that is all right, Don Diego. But the Magistrado vows that we will find the little one and that he will see the sentence carried out. Me? I am not too sure that will ever happen."

"So Zorro has come back to Los Angeles again, eh?" said Diego. "And he does not come to incite revolution or to kill, but to rescue a mere servant who is useless to him? A servant he does not even know? It is very interesting, is it not, Sergeant?"

"Sí, Don Diego it is." Then he puzzled for a moment and said, "A servant he does not know? But, Don Diego, Zorro knows you. Wouldn't he know Bernardo also?"

Before Diego could say anything further, from ahead, Santiago called out. "Sergeant Garcia! Come here at once."

Garcia said, "Please excuse me, Don Diego. I must go."

Diego followed Garcia's progress with interest. The sergeant and Santiago spoke for few moments, then Garcia saluted the Magistrado and turned his horse around to face the escort. He held up his hand and the men halted. Ordering his men to follow him, the sergeant took them up the road a little distance where they waited underneath the shade of a few trees. Even the lancer driving the wagon had to get out and walk to where the other lancers were waiting. Santiago began walking his horse toward the wagon. Diego met Santiago's eyes as he rode up and found that they were just as cold and unyielding as they had been since this whole treason thing had started. Diego was feeling the hair on the back of his neck rising. He was alone with Santiago now and he was bound and defenseless. Not knowing what else to do, he clenched his jaws and waited.

"Ah, here we have the convicted traitor," said Santiago by way of a greeting. "I have granted you the honor of coming along to see you off on your long journey, young Señor Traitor. Am I not gracious?"

Diego couldn't help himself. He said, "You know as well as I do that I am not guilty of treason, Señor Magistrado, so let us drop the name calling, shall we?"

"But that is really why I have come to see you off, Señor Traitor," said Santiago with a feral smile. "I have come to remind you again of our agreement. It should not have been necessary because by rights, you should have been hanged upon the gallows. But Judge Vasca has decided otherwise. Therefore you will remember to continue to keep your mouth shut about your supposed innocence and your father will go right on being a free and dedicated subject of His Majesty. Let me say I have but to hear a rumor that you plan some sort of defense of your innocence, or a rumor that you might try to return to Los Angeles, and your father earns the title of traitor on the instant. And the father of a traitor, who turns out to be one himself, will not be treated as leniently as you have been. The gallows still stand in the plaza. Do I make myself clear?"

Diego glared at Santiago, but nodded his head slowly and said, "Yes, you are very clear."

"Good. Then we continue to understand each other. Keep it that way." With that, Santiago turned his horse and rode up to the Sergeant and the lancers. Soon the wagon's driver was back and the procession started again for San Pedro. Santiago rode up front with Sergeant Garcia. Diego's blood was boiling, but he could do nothing more than stare a hole in the Magistrado's back for now. The threats against his father were as much an affront to him now as they had been the first time he had been confronted by the Magistrado's ultimatum. He renewed his vow to find a way to upset Santiago's plans and to see him brought to justice.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

More than an hour later, the little procession pulled into the small, dusty fishing village of San Pedro. The _Santa_ Antonia could be seen with sails furled, tied up alongside the wharf. There was a collection of smaller fishing vessels also moored at the wharf or drawn up along the beaches. The _Santa Antonia_ was not a large ship, but was quite capable of carrying a respectable amount of cargo. She had once been painted a deep, rich black color, but time, salt water and the sun had faded her richness somewhat. The golden paint used to highlight her name and her architectural details was chipped and faded from the same causes. But her decks were neat and tidy and nothing seemed to be out of place. Despite her somewhat worn appearance, this spoke well of her capitán's care of her.

As the procession passed through the village, the people stopped whatever work they were doing to stare as the entourage passed by. Some of them began to follow the wagon to see what was going on. It was not long before the word spread that it was Diego de la Vega, the convicted traitor, who had come to their little town. The crowd grew larger.

The wagon pulled up to the wharf and the lancers pushed the onlookers back as Diego climbed down. Sergeant Garcia and two lancers had dismounted and came to stand by his side. Santiago remained mounted as he surveyed the crowd and looked over the ship. Capitán Zavala, on board the ship, took notice of the soldiers and their prisoner and came down the gangway to speak to the sergeant. The

Santa Antonia's capitán was a tall, thin man of middle years, bearded and dressed in a navy blue seaman's coat.

"Sergeant?" he inquired. "I am Capitán Luis Zavala of the

Santa Antonia. This is the prisoner I must take on board my ship?" he asked, eyeing Diego.

"Sí, This is Diego de la Vega," replied Garcia. Then gesturing to Santiago, he said, "May I present, His Excellency, Jorgé Santiago, Magistrado for the district? Your Excellency, this is Capitán Zavala of the _Santa Antonia._ "

The Capitán bowed low to the Magistrado and Santiago acknowledged him with a small bow of his own from the back of his horse. "Capitán Zavala. I could wish for a more pleasant meeting between the two of us, but we have business at hand," he said, pointing to Diego. "Sergeant, the court documents, if you please."

Sergeant Garcia reached for the papers tucked into his belt and handed them to the capitán. Zavala opened and read them thoroughly.

"They seem to be in order, Your Excellency," said Zavala. "I am to take the prisoner to exile, away from the lands held by His Majesty, the King. At my discretion, I am to release the prisoner in a foreign port and to have no further contact with the prisoner once he is no longer on board my ship."

"That is correct, Capitán Zavala," said Santiago. "Sergeant, give him the money."

Sergeant Garcia reached into his pouch and removed a bag which contained the pesos allotted for the transport of the prisoner. He handed it to the ship's capitán, who weighed it in his hand. He seemed satisfied with the weight of it for he did not stop to count it before he put it in his pocket. "Graciás, Señor Magistrado," he said. "My ship is ready to leave at any time. The tide is with us at the moment."

"Very well, Capitán, but one moment, please. I have something I wish to say." Turning to the people gathered around them, Santiago said, "We are here to carry out the lawful orders of the court in sending this prisoner," he pointed at Diego, "into exile for treason against the King of Spain. Last night, his master, the outlaw known as Zorro, came into the cuartel and liberated the prisoner's deaf-mute servant, Bernardo, taking him from the justice of the gallows. This proves even more that which I have alleged. Zorro is the mastermind behind this treasonous conspiracy. Why else save a worthless servant? But we have prevented him from liberating this prisoner and co-conspirator, Diego de la Vega, and herewith, we carry out his sentence. I pledge to the people of this district and to the people of California that I will see Zorro brought to justice also. We are searching the countryside for this outlaw and the prisoner whom he freed. But I warn you that if Zorro is not caught, the lawful government of California is in danger of being overthrown, and you, your families and your property are in danger. Will you help us to capture Zorro?" In response to the affirmative cries from the people, Santiago smiled. "I thank you. Now, Sergeant, you may escort the prisoner on board the _Santa Antonia_. It is time that she sets sail and carries this traitorous prisoner away from our shores." Santiago fixed his eyes upon Diego's as he smiled. Diego may have won his silent little battle in the courtroom, but Santiago had won the war. Nothing could change that. The crowd continued to murmur and the name of Zorro was spoken often. The previous rumors planted by Santiago and the "evidence" at the trial served to cement Zorro's guilt in the minds of the people. This latest act of his just added fuel to the fire.

Diego was seething inside. He knew Santiago was inciting the people against Zorro for some reason yet unknown, but it still galled him, nevertheless. Perhaps even more than the aspersions cast upon his own name. He hated the fact that Bernardo's rescue had been turned into something so sinister. But for the moment, there was still nothing he could do, so he turned to walk down the wharf towards the ship, following the Capitán and Sergeant Garcia. The two lancers marched with him on either side. Something soft and wet hit the side of Diego's neck, running down into the collar of his shirt.

The word "Traitor!" was heard again and again from the crowd. Diego turned to look back and saw Santiago sitting on his horse smiling. He had no intentions of stopping the crowd. It would probably suit him if the crowd took the law into its own hands and killed Diego on the spot. Sergeant Garcia took the pieces of the splattered tomato from Diego's neck and threw them into the waters of the bay. From then on, until they reached the ship, he walked behind Diego to protect him from further bombardment. Diego was grateful for the Sergeant's care of him since he could not defend himself. The five of them walked up the gangway and onto the deck of the ship where they stopped.

"Capitán Zavala," said Garcia. "Here is the key to the handcuffs. According to the Magistrado's orders, they are not to be removed while he is on board the ship, unless you are personally going to guarantee that he does not escape." Garcia looked at Diego. "I am sorry, Don Diego, but I am just repeating the Magistrado's orders." Diego nodded solemnly. Garcia seemed to be unsure as to what to do next. His heart was broken for the friend he was losing, but he did not want everyone to know it. Being friends with a traitor was very dangerous. He swallowed hard and said, "Adios, Don Diego. May God go with you."

"Thank you, Sergeant," said Diego quietly. "Please remember my father."

Again swallowing hard, Garcia said, "Sí, Don Diego. I will." Then he walked off the ship and down to the wharf followed by the two lancers. Garcia motioned the lancers to proceed back to their horses while he remained standing on the dock. Santiago had continued watching until the Sergeant and the lancers had left the ship, then he and the crowd of onlookers went back into the village.

"Weigh anchor!" called the capitán to his men. "Set the main sails! Cast off!" The sailors went about their duties quickly and efficiently and soon the sturdy little ship was pulling away from San Pedro. Diego walked to the side of the ship and looked toward the Sergeant, placing his shackled hands on the rail. He knew he would be seeing the man again, but Garcia did not know that. Diego would never forget that the only man to see him off into his supposed exile was the soft hearted sergeant. He did not blame the others whom he had called his friends for not coming, for the Magistrado had put the fear of being even remotely associated with a traitor into their hearts. No, he did not blame them. But he was glad there was at least one who had the courage to see him off.

The ship was far out into the bay, its silhouette a small dot upon the waters before Sergeant Garcia finally turned to leave. He pulled out his handkerchief supposedly to wipe his brow, for the sun was warm, but in reality it was his tears which dampened the cloth.


	70. B3 Ch13: The San Antonia

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 3**

 **Chapter** **13 – _The San Antonia_**

Capitán Zavala, having gotten his ship under way, came to Diego and said, "Pick up your valise and follow me." Diego picked up the bag and walked behind the capitán as they descended some stairs into the ship. Through the dark and narrow corridor they walked until they came upon a closed door. The capitán used a key to open the door and motioned for Diego to enter. Striking a match, Zavala lit a small lantern and hung it upon a wall hook. "These are to be your quarters until further notice," he said. "Here you will remain unless you ask permission to go on deck. With those," he pointed to Diego's handcuffs, "I do not worry that you will try to escape. For who can swim with those on, eh? But I will not have you constantly wandering the deck. You will be served meals here in your quarters. Do not make trouble for me, Señor, and I will leave you alone. Agreed?"

"It is agreed, Capitán Zavala," said Diego.

"Very well. You will be served a meal at six bells." With that, the Capitán stepped out of the room and closed the door. Diego could hear the rattling of the lock as the key was turned. He surveyed his little domain. The room was barely large enough to take more than a few steps to cover its width. There was a built in bench with a thin pad on it that would serve as his bed and it would also serve as his chair for the small table at that end of the room. There was one small port hole for air and the one lantern for light. A mirror, with most of the silver backing eaten away from the edges, hung near the lantern. On the floor next to the door, was a bowl and an urn of water. Certainly not the best accommodations the ship might have had to offer, but not the meanest either.

The first thing Diego wanted to do was discover whether or not he could remove the handcuffs from his wrists. Being familiar with time keeping on a ship, he knew that six bells meant he had around two and one half hours before his meal. Standing close to the lantern, he held the cuffs up for examination. Then he bent down and took off his left shoe and pulled out the piece of metal which had been pinching him ever since he dressed this morning. With a wry smile, he held it up to the light. It was Bernardo's lock pick. He had managed to secret it in his shoe this morning without the guards noticing. Leaning against the wall near the light, he set to work on his cuffs.

It was difficult to get the proper angle for using the tool with both hands cuffed together, but he persisted, and after about ten minutes, he heard a satisfying click. Putting pressure on the cuffs, his left hand was soon free. He stopped to rub his wrist for a moment. He did not want to take the cuffs completely off right now for he would have to put them back on before the meal was served, but he was more than pleased that he could, indeed, get them off if he wanted to. That was certainly going to make his escape from the ship much easier.

He moved to the door and inspected the lock there. Needing more light, he retrieved the lantern and held it up with his left hand as he examined the mechanism. He thought he would not have much trouble with this lock either. But he would have to know more about the watchman's schedule before he dared to try and pick this lock. It would not do to open the door only to find a sailor standing there with a pistol to point between his eyes. He put the lock pick back into his shoe, only this time he put it in his right shoe. He wanted to spare the left one the same misery it had endured all day.

Diego replaced the lantern on its hook and took some of the water and rinsed away the residue of the tomato from his neck, and then sat down upon his bed to think. He needed a plan. He needed to get off this ship and back to Los Angeles as soon as he could. He knew that as soon as he was gone, Capitán Zavala would waste no time in sending a message back to the Magistrado to tell him what had happened to his passenger. So the message sent to Santiago should be one which would cause him no alarm. The only thing Diego could think of which would not alarm Santiago was news of Diego's own death. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Diego decided that was the answer. He would fake his own death by leaving a suicide note in his cabin. He would have to be convincing.

The next thing was to get over the side of the ship without attracting attention. Then there would be the long swim to shore. He would have to take his bearings carefully to make sure he knew just which direction to swim. He would certainly have a swim of several miles to gain the shore. Therefore, he would need to be rested. Last night's rescue of Bernardo had left him almost without any sleep in the last twenty-four hours. So he would use tonight to rest and sleep. He would use tomorrow to study the ship and her crew. Perhaps he could find out from some of them just how far they had traveled, so he would know just where he might come ashore with more accuracy.

With this much of a plan in place, Diego leaned back against the head of his bed, stretching his legs out to relax. His feet touched the end of the space and Diego made a face. The bed was going to be short by about six inches. He was not going to spend a very comfortable night it would seem. He snapped the handcuff back around his wrist and made sure it was secure. Soon his fatigue and the rising and falling of the ship across the waves put Diego to sleep.

He was awakened by the sound of the ship's bells ringing and he counted six bells, or as he reckoned it, seven o'clock. Rubbing his face to awaken himself, he sat up. Needing some fresh air, he opened the port window and let the wind blow on his face. It was quite dark outside the little window. He turned as he heard the lock being opened. Apparently he would not be granted the courtesy of someone knocking first.

A smallish man with swarthy brown skin entered the room carrying a tray. On it was a plate of something which looked like boiled beef, along with some bread. A mug was on the tray, but Diego couldn't tell what might be in it.

Trying to be friendly, he said, "Buenas noches. I am Diego de la Vega. May I have the honor to know your name?"

"Bizco, Señor," the man said with a peculiar lisp.

Diego was amused by the nickname and smiled. He could see where that name would fit the crewman. He only looked up at Diego directly through one eye as he squinted through the other one. It gave the man a very droll appearance. That, along with the fact the man apparently had no front teeth and was almost completely bald. Only a few stray wisps of hair remained to show he had once entertained the presence of that particular covering. He also had what seemed to be the constant habit of rubbing his tongue where his front teeth once were, making his lips pucker in and out in the most comical fashion.

"Our Bizco, might not look like much, Señor," said Capitán Zavala from the open doorway. "But he saved my life six years ago, and he will always have a place with me," Bizco bowed and smiled his toothless smile as he looked adoringly at his capitán. Diego could see an obvious affection in Zavala for the squint-eyed crewman.

Diego smiled again, but a bit more soberly. "I can understand that, Capitán," he said, thinking of Bernardo back in the cave at home. "I had a servant who would have done the same for me."

"Yes, . . . well, come along, Bizco," said Zavala, gesturing for the crewman to exit the room. "We have many things to do before we turn in for the night."

"Sí, Capitán Zavala," lisped the swarthy sailor as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His lisp gave the capitán's name a peculiar sound and Diego again had to keep his amusement in check.

Turning back to Diego, Zavala said, "Buenas noches, Señor."

"Buenas noches, Capitán." returned Diego. He watched as the door was closed and locked for the night. He sat down to his meal. First though, he worked for a few moments to unlock his handcuffs again. This time it did not take nearly as long, as he had learned from the first attempt. The meal was not first class, but it was filling. He was amused at the wooden fork which he had been given as a utensil. Zavala seemed to be a very frugal man. There was fresh water in the mug and the bread was acceptable also. This confirmed his assessment of the Capitán in that he was an honest man, concerned with doing his duty and not one to take petty pleasure in causing misery to those in his charge. Diego knew he was fortunate, because there were those who would have taken great pleasure in making his life miserable for the crime of which he was convicted. They might even have taken pleasure in mistreating him physically, for to whom could he complain? He rubbed the back of his neck as he remembered the thrown tomato. No, he was a lucky man to have Capitán Zavala as his jailor.

The watch change came at eight bells, or eight o'clock. Diego could hear the men as they came and went down the corridor laughing and swearing at each other. After a time, all grew quiet again. Only the creaking of the ship and the bells ringing out the time every half an hour could be heard. At length, Diego blew out the lantern and leaned back in the corner of the bed to listen for the night watchman he knew would most certainly make a check on the prisoner. Reluctantly, he replaced the handcuff in case there was a physical inspection.

While he waited, he reflected upon the message written to him by Gracilia. She had obviously written the note before the kidnaping and before he had been sent to Santa Barbara, for she had been trying to warn him not to go there. Something or someone must have prevented her from sending it to him in time. He realized the woman he had frightened on the dark road to Los Angeles must have been Pippa, Gracilia's servant woman. She had been carrying the note along the road which led to the hacienda. Had she read the note? Did she have information which might be useful in piecing together the puzzle of Santiago's plans? Gracilia had hinted at the framework of the plans, but there was little enough to work with. _Jorgé wants the land. Your father's land. All the land of California,_ she had written. Much of California's wealth was the land itself. Varga had known this when he tried to take over California and sell her to the highest bidder. What was Santiago's angle? Again he thought of Gracilia's words. _I overheard them talking. They want you dead._

 _Why? Why would it profit Santiago to have him killed? Why the whole process of setting him up on charges of treason and then going through the sham of a trial just to have him killed? There were much easier ways to have a man killed than going through all of that effort._ Santiago could have just used his false Zorro to have Diego killed. Or he could have hired an assassin. It was all still such a mystery. He was thankful to Gracilia, God rest her gentle soul, for trying to warn him, but how he wished that she had been able to provide more information along those lines. All he knew was that it had something to do with Santiago wanting to gain control of vast amounts of land.

He once again berated himself for letting this happen to him and thereby placing his father in danger. Then shoved that aside as unprofitable. He had other things to consider. How quickly would Santiago move against his father to try and take the rancho? Would he be able to escape his exile and make it home in time to put a stop to Santiago's plans? He must and he would. There was one thing in his favor. Santiago was a very precise man. He could not have done all he had done since his arrival in Los Angeles without careful and meticulous planning along with the patience to make sure that everything fell into place before proceeding on to the next step. Diego hoped this would give him the time he needed to get back home. He was comforted a little by the fact that he knew Bernardo was close by his father and would do what he could to protect him until Diego could return.

Gracilia's note had mentioned the real name of the imposter. Uresti. That was another matter he would have to attend to when he returned home. He could not allow Santiago to continue to use Zorro as his personal weapon. Whoever this Uresti was, he would have to be found and removed. Diego clenched his jaws. Uresti had been impersonating Zorro when he had killed the defenseless and delicate Gracilia. But as angry as Diego was at this Uresti, he was even more angry and upset at Santiago for ordering her death. Both he and Uresti would need to be brought to justice for that foul deed. Señor Santiago, as the Magistrado, claimed high moral ground in his efforts to see that justice was served under his rule. Well, justice as meted out by El Zorro would be his final portion if Diego had anything to say about it. Santiago had much for which to answer. He and his minions must be brought down and made to answer for their crimes. If not in a court of law, then at the point of the sword of Zorro.

Trying to make himself more comfortable, Diego found he could only relax by turning on his side in the bed because he was too long for the space. But he decided this was the least of his worries at the moment. He heard six bells come and go, then, after an eternity, he heard eight bells again. He knew then that it was midnight. Despite himself, he was having quite a hard time keeping his eyes open while he was waiting and was considering getting up and moving around to keep awake when he heard the lock on his door rattle as someone tested it to see that it was secure. Diego smiled. If nothing changed, after the evening meal was brought to his room there would be at least four hours before another scheduled check was made on the prisoner. This would give him plenty of time to get away. Content, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep, lulled by the rocking of the ship.

Refreshed, Diego woke up at what he judged to be about six o'clock in the morning. The sun was streaming in the little port window. He was somewhat stiff when he got up because he had not been able to stretch his long frame out during the night. Not sure what time the morning meal would be served, he stretched as much as his little room would allow. He hoped the meal would be served early as he was quite hungry. Going to his valise, he pulled out the shaving kit and brushes. With the water from the urn, he was able to shave, comb his hair, and brush his teeth. The handcuffs made this a bit awkward, but he managed quite well. This improved his mood considerably. He then sat down and waited.

He did not have long to wait, for moments after the bells sounded announcing the hour, the lock rattled on his door. Diego waited and before long, Bizco came bustling in. "Excuse me, Señor," Bizco lisped. "I will take away your dishes and return with your breakfast."

"Graciás," Diego said as he gestured that it was all right to do so.

Bowing, Bizco took the dishes out, leaving the door open. Curious, Diego got up and slowly approached the door. Capitán Zavala stepped into the opening.

"Ah, Capitán," said Diego. "I did not see you there."

"You will return to your seat, Señor," said Zavala, not harshly, but expecting obedience.

"Yes, Capitán Zavala," Diego said, backing up and reseating himself. He would have to be very careful of this capitán. He did not miss anything.

Bizco came in with Diego's breakfast; another piece of boiled beef, some cheese and more bread. Again there was only water to drink. Diego decided he was glad he was going to be leaving the ship tonight. This kind of cuisine could become very monotonous. "Graciás," he told Bizco again. Turning to Zavala, he asked, "Capitán, would it be all right if I came up on deck after I have eaten? I would like to stretch my legs and get some fresh air."

Zavala looked at Diego for a moment and then his eyes fell upon Diego's handcuffs. That seemed to be the determining factor. "Sí," he said. "I will send Bizco to fetch you later." With a stern look, he continued. "You will be the model of deportment, Señor, or you will be permanently confined to your quarters until it is time for you to disembark. Do I make myself clear?"

"You do indeed, Capitán Zavala," said Diego. "I will not give you any trouble. You have my word."

Zavala's thoughts concerning the worth of the word of a traitor were written on his face, but the capitán had the good manners not to voice his thoughts. He merely nodded at Diego and said, "Come, Bizco." The two of them left the room, locking the door securely behind them.

Diego listened until he could no longer hear their footsteps before he unlocked his handcuff and proceeded to eat his breakfast. He reached over and flipped open the porthole glass, listening to the sounds of the gulls and noises of the ship all around him. He reflected upon the capitán of the _Santa Antonia_ and wished things were different between them. He regretted that he was going to leave the man with the wrong impression of himself. The capitán would sail on to Spain, never knowing Diego was innocent of the charges against him. Diego decided that when this was over, he was going to have a letter sent to the capitán personally, which would clear his name with the man. Capitán Zavala was someone whom Diego could respect, and he deserved to know the truth even if it took months or years for the letter to catch up with him.

At mid-morning, Bizco came to take him up on deck. Bizco had a knife and a pistol in his belt, though he made no overt threats with them. He checked Diego's handcuffs to make sure they were secure, then indicated Diego should follow him. Although Diego was half again taller than Bizco, he followed the wizened sailor meekly up the stairs and into the light. It felt very good to be out of that small confining room of his. He took a deep breath of the fresh sea air.

Bowing slightly, Bizco spoke. "Señor. Capitán Zavala has said that you may walk around the ship, but you must remain on deck in plain sight at all times. You may not approach the helmsman nor may you return below unless one of us goes with you."

"I understand," said Diego. Before Bizco could walk away, Diego said, "Oh, Señor Bizco? Just out of curiosity, how far have we come already?"

Bizco squinted at the sun for a moment while his lips moved in and out with the movement of his tongue. Diego once again had to suppress his amusement at the small man's appearance. The sailor had clearly earned the respect of the Capitán and this Diego would honor by treating him with respect in his turn. Grabbing a surprisingly clean kerchief from his pocket, Bizco rubbed the back of his neck and wiped a little spittle from the corner of his mouth. As he did so, a white oval disk fell out of its folds and landed on the deck.

Diego reached down and picked it up. It was a piece of scrimshaw art. There was a picture of a beautiful woman's face etched upon it. "Oh, who is this, Señor Bizco?" he asked, taken with her likeness.

Bizco looked a little shy as he scuffed his foot along the deck. "That is my one true love," he said, gazing on the disk. "Her name is Ta'shina."

"A very exotic name," said Diego, as he handed the disk back to Bizco.

"Sí, Señor," he said. "She waits for me on one of the islands we pass along our route. There is no one like her in all the world." He gazed at the disk lovingly.

"I dare say that she thinks the same thing of you, Señor Bizco," said Diego as he kept his face carefully neutral. It was apparent that Bizco was truly enamored of the woman. What she thought of the little man with the squint was anyone's guess. Well, the world had many strange things in it, did it not? "Um, you were about to tell me how far we have traveled, I believe," Diego said to prompt the little man once again.

"Oh, sí. Sunrise tomorrow will see us just off the coast of San Diego, Señor," he said, pointing to the southeast. "We are to put in there to pick up some mail and more cargo bound for Argentina."

"Graciás," said Diego. "And I wish you all the best with your señorita." Bizco smiled shyly and bowed as he left to attend to his other work. The small man's rolling gait gave evidence to his many years at sea. Diego watched him go. The information about San Diego was welcome and he was pleased. He would not be so far away from home as he had feared. And he would be able to find a horse and some food to take him all the way back to Los Angeles. By his reckoning, once he got off the ship he would land somewhere near La Jolla on the seacoast. Now all he needed to do was figure out a way to leave the ship.

Diego took his first good look around the vessel. There were several crewmen working on a large sail spread out on the forward deck. They seemed to be mending it. There were two men at the aft end of the ship. One man was at the helm and the other was peering through a telescope, scanning the horizon. That man was Capitán Zavala. Diego decided to walk around the ship's deck a few times to get his blood going. He took the opportunity to study the layout of the ship, seeking the best place to slip over the side later on in the night. After two circuits of the deck, he decided that the pile of crates stacked on the deck near the front of the ship on the starboard side would offer the most cover. He walked over to the crates, nodding to the crewmen still working on the sail and sat down on one of them as though resting while he looked out over the water. As he looked around, he also reviewed the layout of the ship once again, calculating how much distance there was between the exit from below decks to the crates upon which he was sitting. Then he stood and leaned upon the rail, looking down at the water for a long time as it flowed past the ship. At the same time, he was judging the distance down to that water. He would hate to have to jump from the deck into the water tonight. It was a considerable distance. The night watchman might hear the splash and come to investigate.

Wondering what to do, he spied a piece of rope coiled up next to the crates. It was tied to the ship's railing, but seemed to serve no immediate purpose. Moving slowly, and keeping his hands on the ship's rail, he moved toward the rope. Looking out over the water to misdirect any onlookers, Diego hooked his foot under the rope and began trying to push it through the railing. He was slow and deliberate. Suddenly, from behind him came a voice which froze him in place.

"It is very beautiful, is it not?" said Capitán Zavala. Diego turned around, desperately hoping his foot was not caught in the rope.

He was relieved to see that Zavala was standing on the other side of the crates and so could not have seen what Diego had been doing with his foot. "Yes, Capitán, it is," he answered. "I was just remembering my first experience on an ocean going vessel such as this one. It was when I went to Spain to attend the university in Madrid. I remember how fascinated I was at the many colors of the ocean waters."

"Oh? When was that?" asked Zavala.

"Five years ago, this summer," replied Diego.

Nodding, Zavala said, "On which ship did you sail? Perhaps I know her."

"It was the _España Nuevo_. Capitán Enrique Milagros," said Diego.

Zavala looked out over the ocean again. He seemed to be saddened by the information. "Sí. A fine ship, Señor. She was lost off Cape Horn two years ago I am sorry to have to report. All hands perished in a great storm."

Diego was truly saddened to hear this. He and Capitán Milagros had struck up quite a friendship during the voyage to Spain. "I regret to hear this news very much," said Diego, looking out over the ocean in his turn.

"It is a risk we all take," said Zavala.

Diego saw in this sobering news an opening which would allow him to create the cover story for his disappearance from the ship. This would be a good time to plant the seeds of his "suicide" in Zavala's thoughts. So he sighed and said, "I begin to think that a good clean death in the ocean is sometimes not such a bad thing."

"What do you mean, Señor?" said Zavala, looking at Diego closely.

"Only that, Capitán," said Diego. He did not want to say too much. He did not want to cause Zavala to post a guard outside his door tonight. That would ruin all his plans.

"I think you should go below now, Señor de la Vega," said Zavala. Turning, he called across the ship, "Bizco! Bizco! Come here!" As the small man with the squint in his eye came trotting up to them, Zavala said, "Take the prisoner back to his quarters." Turning to Diego he said, "Señor?" and pointed to the entrance to the decks below.

Diego nodded to the capitán and followed Bizco down to his room. He was quite satisfied with his little excursion this morning. He had learned enough about the ship to make his way around in the darkness tonight and had set Zavala up to believe the "suicide" note that he would leave behind. When Bizco came to bring his noonday meal, he asked for a pen, ink, and some paper saying that he intended to write some poetry to pass the time. Again, Diego had to contend with the same kind of meal he had received since he had boarded the ship; beef, bread and water. But he had finished eating them when the items he had requested were brought to him.

Diego wrote down some obscure verses from some poetry he had learned at the university, reasoning that Zavala would not be familiar with them. This was just in case the Capitán wanted to see what kinds of things he was writing. As he prepared to write his "suicide" note, he considered that Santiago might inform his father of his suicide. That thought had not occurred to him before. Sighing, he knew it could not be helped. He must get off the ship and he must fool Santiago into thinking he was dead. Grimly, he concentrated upon writing his "suicide" note. However, he left a hidden message within it for a certain someone whom he had left behind. It was a long shot indeed. If that someone was to see the note, he would know Diego was not truly dead, but would soon return. It was as much as he dared to do. When he had finished the note, he place it under the mattress pad for safekeeping. Then he pulled out the book of poetry he had brought with him and began reading by the light of the small port hole. He took another nap to be sure that he was fully rested for the night's exertions. Time wore on drearily until, at last, it was time for the evening meal to be served.

This time, Zavala accompanied Bizco as he brought the meal at six bells. Diego hid a grimace when he saw what he was being given. It was just too bad that California had such an abundance of beef, he thought to himself. Salted beef was one of the cheapest rations which could be carried on board a ship. And apparently, Capitán Zavala had stocked up with a good supply.

Zavala picked up from the table the pages of verse Diego had written and began to read silently. Diego watched with curiosity to see what the Capitán's reaction would be. The verses were of a dark nature, with many references to hopelessness and being all alone in the world. After just a few verses, Zavala looked at Diego. "These are very disquieting, Señor," he said. Diego just looked at him quietly. "Do you always write such melancholy verse?" he asked.

"No, Capitán," said Diego. "But lately, these are all that seem to come to mind."

Shaking his head, Zavala put the pages back on the little table. Motioning for Bizco to follow him, Zavala left the room and locked the door behind him. Diego immediately went to the door to listen. Good. He could hear no one in the hallway. If everything remained as it was last night, he would hear the watch change at eight bells, then he could expect four hours before the door would be checked by the night watchman. Grimacing at the food on the plate before him, he nevertheless ate some of it. He did not eat all of it for he did not wish to become short winded from eating a heavy meal as he was swimming for the shore. He reclined on his bed and waited until he heard the ship's bell strike four times. That would make it ten o'clock.

Diego removed his handcuffs completely and placed them on the table. Then he pulled the suicide note from underneath his mattress pad. This he folded and addressed to the capitán. Next, he went to his valise and pulled out the rosary beads and his money pouch. The beads were not his mother's as he had told Sergeant Garcia. They were some which had been given to him as a young boy by some distant relative whom he had never gotten to meet. He placed the beads on top of the note. He was wearing one of his dark suits, but he took off his jacket, banda, and his white shirt. He folded the shirt and set it aside. Then he took a black shirt from his valise and put it on. In the darkness, he would be very hard to see in these clothes. He took off his shoes because he would be able to swim much better without them and used his jacket along with his banda to tie them into a bundle which he could then tie around his waist. He pushed the money pouch into his shirt and made sure it would be secure. Then he put the folded white shirt into the valise and closed it again, making sure everything in the room was neat and tidy. He wanted it to appear that everything had been done with quiet deliberation.

There being nothing left to do, Diego took the lantern from its hook, retrieved the wooden fork from the table and went to the door. He listened for several minutes, but heard nothing other than the natural noises of the ship. He held the lantern up with one hand as he worked the metal lock pick with the other. The lock made several clicking noises as he worked on it and he paused each time, fearing he had made too much noise. Finally, the lock made one last rather loud click and the door was open. Diego held his breath. As quiet prevailed, he replaced the lantern and picked up the wooden fork. Shoving the handle into the lock, he bent it until it broke in two with a snap. Again, Diego listened, but all was quiet. He dropped the head of the fork on the floor near the door. His goal was to trick the capitán into thinking that he had managed to pick the lock with the wooden fork. He turned and picked up the handcuffs from the table. These he stuffed into his shirt, ignoring the coldness of the metal against his skin. He would get rid of them at his first opportunity. But for now, they were part of his plan. When Capitán Zavala found his prisoner missing and read the suicide note, he would believe Diego was indeed dead, for, as he had remarked, _"who can swim with those on, eh?"_ He might be persuaded believe that Diego could open the ship's door with a wooden fork, but he would know the handcuffs could not be defeated in such a manner.

Diego tied the bundle around his waist and blew out the flame in the lantern. He waited a few moments to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. It was natural for him to work in the darkness. Zorro's domain, after all, was the darkness of night. Then he knelt beside the door and opened it slowly and quietly, listening with all his senses. Keeping to a crouch, he slipped out of the door and left it slightly ajar for the night watch to find. He flowed up the stairs and out onto the deck. Thankfully, there was no moon tonight. He paused to survey the ship's deck, looking for the helmsman and any night watchmen who might be posted. When he knew that he had them located, he moved silently toward the crates at the front of the ship, keeping the main mast between him and the helmsman. Soon, he was where the rope was tied to the railing and he crouched down behind the crates. Finishing the job he started earlier that morning, he pushed the rope over the side. Then checking the positions of the crewmen one more time, he climbed up and over the rail, grabbing onto the rope. He went down the rope hand over hand, gasping as his feet and legs reached the water. He had known the water was going to be cold, but he'd had no idea that the water was going to be this chilling. But he was committed, and he dropped the rest of the way into the water, letting go of the rope as soon as he could so he wouldn't be dragged along by the ship.

Treading water, he shook the wet hair out of his face and oriented himself with the ship and the stars overhead. He knew the coast lay to the east of his position and that the _Santa Antonia_ was heading due south. The ship ghosted past him in the darkness, continuing on her way to San Diego, causing him to bob up and down in her wake. As he continued to tread the water, he was soon watching the dark shape of the ship moving away from him. It was time to go.

But first things first. Pulling the weighty handcuffs from within his shirt, Diego held them up. Opening his fingers, he let the cuffs slide into the frigid waters with a small splash. "There, Señor Magistrado! Try and find those now!" he said quietly, with no small satisfaction. The hated things were gone and he felt as though a great weight had been lifted, not only from around his wrists, but from his spirit as well.

Looking up again, he chose a set of stars to be his guide and struck out for the shore. He hoped that the exercise would warm him somewhat. The water was so very cold. Swimming with steady strokes, he set a pace he thought he could maintain long enough to reach his goal. From time to time, he looked for the lanterns of the _Santa Antonia_ and followed her slow and stately progress toward the southern horizon, but before long, she was lost to sight. After that, all he had to guide him were the jeweled stars of the night sky. He came to realize just how vulnerable he was, swimming along in the inky darkness of night, where no evidence of human habitation could be seen in any direction.

He felt very alone.


	71. B3 Ch14: Coming Ashore

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 3**

 **Chapter** **14 – _Coming Ashore_**

Back on board the _Santa Antonia_ , Diego's absence was discovered at the midnight check. The capitán was immediately summoned and he went into the little cabin lately occupied by his prisoner. He found the note which had been left for him, and, as he held the rosary beads in one hand, he read the note which he held in the other.

 _"Dearest Capitán Zavala,  
I find I can no longer contend with the blow life has dealt me. All that I loved or held dear has been taken from me and I can never hope to regain it. I do not wish to live in some foreign land where I will always be a vagabond and an outcast. So I am leaving this life. I am embracing the clean death we spoke of this morning. When you find this, I will be resting in the bosom of the ocean. Do not search for me, for you will search in vain. But even in death, I maintain my innocence of the charges against me. I am a loyal subject of His Majesty even unto the last. _

It was signed, _Diego de la Vega_

Going to the door and examining the lock, Zavala puzzled over how Diego had opened it with a wooden fork, but could not deny that de la Vega was gone and that the broken pieces of the fork were evidence of his work. None of the crewmen on duty had seen anything of de la Vega since he had been on deck earlier that morning. However, a quick and thorough search of the ship did not produce the prisoner, so Zavala was forced to conclude that he had indeed gone overboard.

Zavala was also forced to conclude that the young man was dead. He knew the ship was at least three miles from any shore and no man could swim that distance with his hands handcuffed together. Besides that, the cold waters of the ocean would soon sap a man of the strength to swim any such distance. He was saddened to think that the only things the young man had to leave behind were a small valise with a change of clothing, sad verses of poetry, a suicide note and some beads. He looked at the note again. De la Vega maintained his innocence against the charges of treason. Zavala wondered for a moment if it could be true, then shrugged. There was nothing he could do about any of it. When he reached San Diego, he would send the news to the Magistrado of Los Angeles and go on with his life. He had his own trials to contend with. Like Enrique Milagros before him, he too, had to round Cape Horn before he could reach the shores of Mother Spain.

"So sad," said Bizco softly, as he stood beside his captain, gazing at the letter. "So very sad."

"Sí, Bizco, my friend. Sad indeed."

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Diego thought he had been swimming for about two hours judging from the changing position of his star guides in the night sky. He did not know if he was any closer to shore or not. He could see nothing in any direction but the faintest outlines of the waves in the water. He stopped to tread water for a while, trying to rest, but he knew that he had to keep moving. He had never been so cold in his life. Gamely, he struck out swimming again, his will to survive keeping him going. Eventually, it was just the mechanical action of swinging his arms and legs in a swimming motion which kept him going. He was too cold to be able to think. He even failed to look for his stars to guide him along the right path.

He didn't notice when the swells started getting larger and that he was being gently raised and lowered on their backs. It wasn't until he was pushed into a large rock causing him to sink and swallow some salt water that he roused up from his lethargy. He coughed and sputtered until he cleared his throat of the water. Fortunately, the weather was mild and the ocean was fairly calm. Diego was gently pulled away from the rock with the next swell, and it propelled him onwards.

Now he realized that he could hear the roar of the waves as they crashed on the shore ahead of him in the distance. Hearing that sound gave him hope that indeed he was going to make it and he began swimming again with all his remaining strength. But the darkness, which had often been his friend as Zorro, turned on him now and he failed to see the rocks in the surf ahead. He was thrown against one of them as he swam for the shore and it knocked the breath from him. He sank beneath the surface, unable to get any air.

The waves tossed him around under the water and he was helpless. With one last silent scream, _I will not die!_ he gathered himself and clawed his way to the surface where he gulped as much air as he could.

Tossing his head to remove the wet hair hanging down in his eyes, he tried again for the shore. His arms and legs were like cold, leaden weights. He could not feel them. He was bounced and scraped against more rocks, but he kept on going with the waves which were carrying him to shore, trying to keep his head above the foam and froth. Finally, he felt the sandy bottom of the ocean rise up to meet him, but he was too weak to stand up. He let the waves carry him to the beach where he crawled out of the water just far enough to collapse on the sand. He felt as though he could lose consciousness any moment if he but allowed it. But again, his strength of will took over, and he forced himself to rise to his hands and knees to look around in the darkness. There was empty beach in either direction as far as he could see. He was still so very cold, and the wind blowing across the waves was helping to keep him that way.

His wet clothing was like ice against his skin and his teeth chattered involuntarily. He knew he needed to get warm again, but how?

Then he noticed that the sand beneath him was relatively warm against his hands. He picked some of it up and let it sift through his fingers. This was important to him, if he could only think. Moving mainly on instinct, he painfully crawled further up the beach, as far away from the water as he could, since he did not know where the line of the high tide would be and began digging. He groaned and gasped with the effort, but he kept on until he had a trench as long as he was and a little over a foot deep. Then he rolled into the trench and lay there motionless for a long time. Just being out of the wind made him feel much warmer, but he knew that would not be enough. Slowly, he reached out with both arms and began pulling the sand down and over him.

With little groans escaping his lips from his exertions, he covered his legs and then worked up his body, covering himself up to his neck in sand. Only now did his body begin trembling from the cold to which it had been subjected. The sand was warm, but he was chilled to the bone. How long he lay there before he stopped trembling, he could not recall. At last, he fell into an exhausted sleep.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

The rising sun painted the eastern sky with pinks and lined the clouds with silver. It ascended the sky in all its majesty, baking the sand of Diego's beach with its warmth. The sea birds wheeled overhead calling to each other. Diego was still deep in an exhausted sleep within his earthly bed and heard nothing. After circling closer and closer, one sea gull, bolder than the rest, dropped down to land just a few feet away from Diego's head which was all that was sticking up out of the sand. The gull peered at Diego's hair for a long time, first with one eye then the other. He advanced a few steps closer and peered again.

Timidly, the gull moved close enough to use his beak to push some of the hair around, as if trying to determine what the strange stuff was. Finally the bird summoned enough courage to give a hard tug on a lock of hair from the top of Diego's head.

"OUCH!" Diego yelled out, sitting up abruptly and sending sand showering all around him. The sea gull leaped up into the air and flew off to land several yards away, ruffling his feathers before settling his wings along his back. He regarded Diego with cool detachment. Diego grabbed a handful of sand and threw it at the bird. "Get away from me, you . . . you . . . !" Diego did not have the mental capacity at the moment to think of something sufficient to call the bird as it flew off to rejoin its companions in the air, calling raucously. He rubbed the top of his head as he looked around.

It came to him that he did feel somewhat better despite the curious antics of the gull. He was warm for one thing. He got up slowly in order to regain his equilibrium and then tried to brush the sand off himself. But it was everywhere. Inside his shirt, his pants, his socks, . . . everything. It rasped against his skin and he knew that he did not want to walk anywhere with his clothing full of sand. The prickling, the chafing, . . . no, that would not do at all. The only thing he could do would be to rinse his clothes in the sea water and rinse himself as well.

Looking around, he saw that perhaps a hundred yards further up the deserted beach, there was a large rock near the water, sticking up out of the sand. He walked toward it. He could rinse his clothing out and drape it on the rock to dry. Then he could get in the water and get himself cleaned up also. He had to smile wryly at the idea that the very water which had tried to kill him last night was his friend today.

While his clothes were drying, Diego swam in the water. Here, next to the shore, the water did not have the bone chilling cold as had the deep ocean waters. For a while, he thought he might catch some of the fish swimming in the larger pools of water, but soon gave it up. Either they were too quick, or he was too slow. He opted to believe the former, not wanting to consider the latter. He pulled himself out of the water and sat on the rock next to his clothing, allowing the sun to dry him as well.

He thought about the _Santa Antonia_ and how, even now, the message containing news of his death was most likely making its way up the El Camino Real on its way to Los Angeles and the Magistrado. Perhaps it would give his father some further measure of protection in whatever scheme Santiago had going to know that Diego de la Vega was dead. After all, that was what Santiago had been after in the first place, according to everything Diego knew.

He shrugged his shoulders to himself. The answer to the mystery of what Santiago was doing by convicting him and Bernardo of treason still escaped him. But, as he looked around, he knew he would find none of the answers here on this deserted beach. He did not let himself dwell on what the news might do to his father. There was nothing he could do about it until he returned. He could only pray that his father was strong enough to handle word of his death.

Diego felt his clothes, and decided they were dry enough to put on. The left knee of his pants sported a six inch rip and the right sleeve of the black shirt was torn a few inches at the shoulder seam, but all and all, his clothes were in fairly good shape. The contents of the bundle made from his jacket had survived by some miracle, and he had shoes to put on his feet. He was extremely glad of that. Soon he was completely dressed, wishing only for a hat to shade him from the sun. His hair kept falling down across his forehead and he couldn't seem to make it behave. Diego decided the problem must have been all the salt water to which it had been subjected. A hat would have solved that particular problem. He would just have to ignore the unruly locks. He picked up the little bag containing the one hundred pesos, and this he tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket for safekeeping. It, too, had been a survivor.

In order to find civilization and a means to get food and a horse, Diego opted to move inland first. He did not enjoy the idea of slogging through deep sand all the way to La Jolla or San Diego by staying on the beaches. So he would go east and find El Camino Real. There, he was sure he would be able to find what he needed as there were many small settlements and ranchos which used the road as their main artery for commerce.

He set off with his purpose giving him strength.


	72. B3 Ch15: Going Home

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 3**

 **Chapter** **15 – _Going Home_**

Diego kept to the trees and brush as he walked. He could not afford to be seen by anyone. All it would take was one person to turn him into the authorities and his "suicide" would turn into a resurrection. This would be disastrous, for Santiago would then have every reason to take action against Don Alejandro, not to mention that it would mean certain death for Diego. So, whenever Diego came to an open area which he would have to cross, he first stopped in the edge of the brush to look around carefully. Then he moved out briskly to cover the distance and regain the cover of the trees. It was hot and he was getting decidedly thirsty, but there were no streams or lakes that he could find. If he remembered correctly, El Camino Real was not too far from the coast here in this part of California. Not more than two or three miles anyway. As a boy, he had ridden with his father to San Diego several times, so he was fairly confident he would be able to gain his bearings once he reached the road.

At last, he reached the El Camino. Crouching alongside some trees as cover, he looked both ways. In the distance to his right, he could see a couple of peons herding a small flock of goats away from him down the road, heading in the direction of San Diego. There was no one in the other direction. As much as he hated to think of going in a direction away from Los Angeles, Diego decided to follow the peons and their goats. From what he could remember of the road, this part of the countryside was sparsely populated. His chances of finding food and a horse were much greater if he went toward San Diego.

Again, he kept to the trees and brush even though walking along the road would have been much easier. He did not want the peons to look behind them and see that they were being followed. They walked for perhaps an hour before the peons turned east with their goats to go down a well-worn wagon trail that went off into the hills. When Diego reached the trail, he paused. Should he follow them or should he go on to La Jolla and San Diego? He knew that small ranchos dotted the land around San Diego, but he did not know if the peons were going to such a place. They might have just a little piece of land and those few goats with which to make a living, in which case, they would have nothing to help him. But, if he continued on toward San Diego in the daylight, the chances of someone noticing him would grow as the population became more dense. He judged he was still eight or ten miles from either town.

As he was pondering what to do, from around a bend in the road, three vaqueros came riding on their horses. Diego ducked back further into the trees. The vaqueros cantered their horses along, laughing and joking with each other, and then they turned and went down the same wagon trail which the peons had taken. That settled it for Diego. Somewhere down that trail was a working rancho. He was sure he could find what he needed there. He patted the money pouch in his jacket. He would take what he needed, but the former owners would be well compensated. No one would suffer any loss because of his needs. Checking to make sure the road was clear once more, he ran across and started down the trail.

All of his senses were alert because there was not as much open land here and he did not want to stumble upon anyone. The vaqueros were completely out of sight in a short time, but Diego did catch up to the peons and their goats. He trailed along behind them. After another mile or so, they turned off the wagon trail onto another, smaller track. Diego kept to the main trail. The rancho would be further on. He did come to a stream which the wagon trail crossed. Gratefully he knelt to drink his fill, and at the same time doused his head to try and cool off somewhat. He was still hungry, but he felt refreshed just having water to drink. Splashing his face one more time, he got up and continued down the trail.

He had to dive into the bushes to avoid being seen when a vaquero came barreling up the trail on his horse. The man was spurring his horse and driving him with the whip. Froth covered the horse's mouth and shoulders. Diego was taken aback, wondering just what was going on. He decided to remain just where he was, which was a good thing, for in just a few moments the man came back, pushing the horse just as hard in the opposite direction.

"Aayyiieee!" the man cried as he swept past. Diego peered down the road after him and saw the entrance to a rancho in the distance. Several vaqueros were sitting on their horses urging the rider on. He flew into the yard of the rancho, pulling his horse to a stop so hard that the animal slid and plunged, flinging its head up as it strained against the bit. The other vaqueros gathered around this man and seemed to be congratulating him. Then they all rode off together around to the back of the main house, laughing and talking loudly with each other.

Diego wasn't exactly sure just what he had witnessed, but he surmised the men had some sort of bet between them which involved the man and his horse. He hoped they did not treat all of their horses like that. Moving across the road, he kept to the trees and brush as he spied on the rancho from various points, memorizing its layout. There was the main house with several outbuildings scattered around. A dusty corral on the north side of the rancho held a few horses. There was a well behind the ranch house, but the stream which Diego had crossed earlier cut through one corner of the corral to give the horses water. In back of the rancho, fairly close to the well, was a small stone building.

Diego watched as a woman came out of the ranch house and went into the building. Through the door he could see meat hanging from hooks. This was apparently their smokehouse. His mouth watered at the thought of food. But he would have to wait for the darkness in order to make his move.

He went back to the stream and drank again before finding some shade in a dense thicket where he made himself comfortable and went to sleep. Well after sundown, he was awakened by the growling of his stomach. He held his stomach with one hand, willing it to quiet down. It sounded so loud in his ears he was sure that others could hear it if they happened to be around. He made his way back to overlook the rancho, pausing to assess their security arrangements. He could see no one. That was surprising, but he took it as a good omen.

Carefully, he slipped in between the buildings, headed first for the smoke house. The door had a simple latch and he soon had it open. Inside, he found a great deal of meat hanging from enormous hooks. Much to his chagrin, it was all beef. Sighing, he looked around and found a large butcher's knife stuck into a table in the center of the room. He used it to cut off a piece of the smoked beef and wolfed it down. He ate a few more bites as he stood in the half-open door of the smokehouse, watching in case someone should come out of the ranch house or the vaquero's quarters. All remained quiet.

He peered around at the corral and saw that there were a couple of saddles hanging on the rails. The horses were not very good ones, certainly not as good as the one the vaquero had ridden past him this afternoon, but he was not in a position to quibble. As he ate his last bite of beef, he picked out the one horse which looked the best, and estimated its worth along with the saddle. Leaving thirty pesos on the table, which was far more than those two items were worth, Diego cut a large section of meat from the leg portion of one of the slabs of beef and wrapped it in a piece of cloth he found in a corner. This he tucked under his arm as he slipped over to the corral.

The horses raised their heads a little to look at him, but their eyes were dull and they soon lost interest in him. Diego was not surprised, given the treatment of the other horse he had seen earlier. These horses were almost worn out. They were most certainly worn down. He checked the saddles and took the one which seemed to be in the best shape. It did have a canteen and a lariat hanging from the saddle horn for which Diego was grateful. He had chosen a dark brown horse from the group and he quickly had it saddled. He tied the piece of beef behind the cantle and made sure it was secure. Taking the reins, he led the horse over to the gate and let down the bars, replacing them when the horse was outside the corral. He paused as he heard laughter and loud name calling coming from the vaqueros in the bunk house. He realized that they were drunk. He wondered where the owner of the rancho was and why he let his men behave like that. His father would never permit such drunkenness among his vaqueros. Perhaps the owner was not here and that is why the men were drinking and carrying on so. He was forming a very low opinion of this rancho and its people.

Suddenly, the door to the bunk house was flung open and a vaquero staggered out. The man pulled a long drink from a wine bottle and then, weaving back and forth, he made his way over to the ranch house. Going inside, he returned shortly, pulling by the arm the same woman Diego had seen earlier. He was taking her back to the bunk house with him. The vaquero did not seem to feel the blows that the woman rained down upon him with her free hand and he ignored her screams to be let go. This was more than Diego could stand. He could not afford to be seen, but neither could he do nothing to help. He didn't have a weapon, but then he remembered the piece of beef. Ripping it from its tie downs, he held it by the leg bone like a club as he ran silently up behind the vaquero and hit him squarely on the head. The man fell like a stone. Before the woman could come to her senses, Diego leaped into the shadow of the bunk house where she could not see him.

Bewildered at what had happened, the woman stared at the vaquero lying in the dirt at her feet. She pushed him with her the toe of her shoe and he moaned. The woman kicked the wine bottle out of the vaquero's hand as she turned around and stormed back into the ranch house, slamming the door behind her. Diego could hear the sound of a bar being slid into place. It would seem no one else would be bothering her tonight.

Diego hefted the piece of beef in his hand and smiled. The humor of the situation did not escape him. He had just felled the man out there with what was to be his supper. He just might come to like beef again after all. But now, he had to get away from this rancho. He ran quietly back to the horse and tied the beef back onto the saddle again. Gathering the reins, he led the horse away from the rancho. The last time he looked back, he could see that the vaquero was getting up and staggering back to the bunk house. Diego laughed as he thought to himself that the man probably did not yet know just what had happened to him. The vaquero was so drunk he probably had not even felt the blow. Diego was glad none of the rancheros he knew from Los Angeles ran an operation as sorry as this one. He was quite happy to be away from here. Pausing at the stream to empty the canteen, he filled it with clean water. Then he mounted the horse and set off going due north, heading home.


	73. B3 Ch16: Hope Out of Hopelessness

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 3**

 **Chapter** **16 – _Hope Out of Hopelessness_**

Santiago was in his office studying some documents when a knock came at his door. "Enter," he said. Capitán Hidalgo opened the door and came in along with a military courier. "Yes? What is it?' asked Santiago, putting down his papers.

"Your Excellency," said Hidalgo. "This man has an urgent dispatch for you, . . . from the capitán of the _Santa Antonia_."

This unsettled Santiago somewhat. He had not expected to hear from the capitán for some time. Zavala could not have put Diego ashore in a foreign country in this short a period of time. He was supposed to take the exile far away, so far that he would never be heard from again. It had only been three days since the ship had left. "You may give me the dispatch now, soldier," he said.

"Sí, Your Excellency," said the man. Opening the pouch he wore slung across his shoulder, he pulled out a packet wrapped in brown paper and handed it to Santiago.

"Very well, you may go," said Santiago, looking only at the packet in his hand. The courier nodded and with a salute, which Hidalgo returned, he left the room. Santiago glanced once at Hidalgo who was watching him, and then he opened the packet. He took out two pieces of folded paper and a wooden rosary which he examined. He opened one of the folded papers and read silently. After a moment, he opened and read the second one, then looked at the rosary beads he still held in his other hand. He rested his hand upon his desk and leaned back in his chair. He looked up at Hidalgo and said very calmly, "Diego de la Vega is dead." He was amused at the startled look which passed across Hidalgo's face.

"Dead? But I thought he was only sentenced to exile," said Hidalgo. In the back of his mind he was wondering if Santiago had ordered another of his operatives to make sure that de la Vega was killed. This Santiago was completely ruthless when he wanted someone dead. Witness the death of the man's invalid wife, for example. His curiosity was answered as Santiago spoke.

"Oh, he was, he was, Capitán. And while I had wanted the death penalty, I was quite willing to abide by the sentence of exile handed down by Judge Vasca. It served my purpose just as well." He glanced back at the paper and the beads. "Capitán Zavala sends this message that sometime before midnight on their second day out from San Pedro, Diego de la Vega escaped from his cabin and jumped overboard to his death in the depths of the ocean. The poor boy committed suicide. He left behind this note and these." Santiago tossed the beads on his desk.

"Zavala is sure de la Vega is dead?" asked Hidalgo.

"Yes, he is sure. De la Vega was still handcuffed when he went over the side and they were very far from shore. No one could survive in the chilly waters of the ocean with his hands restrained like that, especially a soft one like Diego. Zavala should know. He has been a sailor all of his life. Here, read this." Santiago handed Diego's note to Hidalgo who read it silently.

"What will you do now?" asked Hidalgo when he was through reading.

"I'm not sure, Capitán. I will have to think about it. No one else knows the courier has come here?"

"He came to the cuartel to report to me, Your Excellency, but no one knows what it was he has brought to you. For all they know, it is a report on grain purchase orders for the horses." Hidalgo smiled.

"Very well, Capitán. You may return to your duties now."

Hidalgo said, "Sí, Your Excellency," then turned to go. Then he stopped and turned back around. "Your Excellency?" he said.

"Yes, what is it?" asked Santiago with a little irritation. He wanted to have time to think about the ramifications of this latest news, not talk further with Hidalgo.

"Your Excellency, if I may? Will I be remaining here in Los Angeles or returning to Santa Barbara to take up my post there?" asked Hidalgo. "The trial is over and you have completed your plans to be rid of young de la Vega. As you know, the garrison in Santa Barbara is under strength while I and my men remain here."

"You have some concern about Santa Barbara that I should know about?" asked Santiago.

"No, Your Excellency, but . . ."

"Then you will carry out your assignment here until I tell you otherwise. Is that clear, Capitán?" said Santiago, fixing his dark eyes on Hidalgo's. He was not sure he liked what he saw there. "I am considering whether to make your assignment here a permanent one."

"Sí, Your Excellency," said Hidalgo, clenching his teeth. He bowed and left the room. As he walked back to the cuartel, his mind seethed. His work here was done. He was bound to Santiago because of his past association with the Eagle, but he was beginning to chafe. Up until the time Santiago had used his masked outlaw to maneuver de la Vega into being charged with treason, Hidalgo had no problems with going along with Santiago's plans. What was de la Vega to him but the useless son of a rich man? Besides, it was expedient to join with Santiago's plans in order to keep himself from being executed as an accomplice of the Eagle. And there was the promise of being rewarded by Santiago when his plans were complete. But ending the life of his wife in such a cold manner put Santiago on a different plane than any man Hidalgo had ever known. His thoughts returned to the wife he had lost to an illness many years before. Maria had succumbed quickly to her illness, not lingering on as had Señora Santiago. His heart longed for her still, even after all these years. He had been the one to place Señora Santiago's small, frail body in the wagon which would take her back to the pueblo, covering her gently with the blanket given to him by one of the lancers. He had never seen the señora in life, but it had been his grim task to return her to Los Angeles in sad death. Bringing the señora back to the pueblo on the Sunday morning before the trial had affected him profoundly. He had denied it for days, burying it deeply in the recesses of his mind, not allowing himself to think about it. He did not dare allow it to affect his performance of Santiago's orders, but lately, at night, he found himself thinking of her and of his Maria. All he wanted to do now was return to Santa Barbara and forget he ever knew Santiago. That this was impossible made him grow angry inside.

Santiago looked at the closed door of his office for some moments as he thought about Hidalgo. He did not like the way Hidalgo was acting. There was nothing to fault in his execution of Santiago's orders, but he felt some doubts growing about the man. Next to Lozano, Hidalgo was a key man in Santiago's plans. One of the few he felt that he could count on to explicitly execute his orders. The soldier was pragmatic enough to work for his promised reward in lieu of being hung as an accomplice of the Eagle. He would just as soon work for Santiago as he had Señor Varga, it made no difference to him. As long as he gained something by the exchange, he was content. That is until now. Something had changed. What, Santiago did not know, but something had changed in Hidalgo's attitude towards him. Santiago narrowed his eyes. He could not afford to be careless around the man. He could be quite dangerous. He would bear close watching from now on.

His eyes fell upon Diego's note which lay upon his desk and he turned from his thoughts of Hidalgo to his thoughts concerning Don Alejandro de la Vega. What would give him the maximum value from this knowledge of Diego's death? He had to admit to himself that he was rather surprised at the young don committing suicide. There had been multiple opportunities for Diego to kill himself both before the trial and during the time he had spent at the hacienda before being taken to San Pedro. He had given no indication that he wished to die. As a matter of fact, had Diego not been restrained by the threat to his father, Santiago felt that he would have had quite a battle on his hands to see the younger man convicted on the charges. Diego could be quite persuasive when he was given the opportunity. His intelligence was never in question, it was only his naive inexperience and idealism which had made him vulnerable. But be that as it may, the fact was that Diego de la Vega was dead. Santiago believed Zavala's report.

Santiago thought for a while longer. At last, he decided he would go to the de la Vega hacienda and deliver the news to Don Alejandro in person. He was the caring Magistrado after all, and everyone would expect he would handle such a delicate matter personally. He would take Sergeant Garcia along. In this way, he would be assured that all of the people in the pueblo would learn of the contents of Zavala's dispatch, for Sergeant Garcia could no more keep a secret than he could turn down a glass of free wine. Santiago was willing to wager that in less than one day, the news would make it from one end of the district to the other. A smile played on his lips. Then he thought of the effect the news would have upon Don Alejandro. The old man's heart was already brittle from the ordeal of the trial and the forced exile of his only son. Santiago could only imagine what Don Alejandro's reaction would be. But whatever the reaction, it would further erode the old don's hold upon his hacienda and his lands. Santiago would see to that. Before many more days had passed, the de la Vega rancho would be his.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

As the days passed since Diego's "exile", Bernardo had made himself quite comfortable in Tornado's cave. He had very carefully acquired items from all over the hacienda. Since he knew where everything was, being one of the de la Vega servants, he knew just where to go to get those things he needed. He also knew just how to cover up the fact he had taken those items so that neither the other servants nor Don Alejandro would notice the attrition. He was quite proud of his abilities. He had an ample supply of beef on hand and some corn and flour to make bread or tortillas. He had quite a few bottles of wine stored in the pool of cool water formed by the little stream which flowed through the cave. There were two beds formed from straw and blankets which were quite comfortable, if he were to say so himself.

He brought Zorro's costume down into the cave and had made sure that it was clean and in good shape before he took it back up to the secret room and placed it with care upon the pegs, making sure everything was just right. He had brought down one of Diego's suits of clothing, the powder blue one with the black trim, just in case Diego came back without the ones he had taken with him on the ship. He could not have taken more without being too obvious should anyone take inventory of Diego's things. He had used some of the natural features in the rocks of the cave to create a makeshift dressing table using a couple of boards upon which he had placed a water basin and some towels along with his shaving kit. For serving meals, he had pulled the table from the secret room behind Diego's bedroom and brought it down into the cave. Some small, empty wine kegs made passable chairs. He had several plates and mugs along with eating utensils. An iron pot and a griddle iron completed his acquisitions.

He kept a watch on Don Alejandro from the secret passages and was sad to see the toll this whole affair was having on the patrón. Bernardo had watched from Diego's window as his young master had been driven off in the wagon, surrounded by lancers. He had also seen Don Alejandro walk through the gate to look down the road after his only son, watching him being sent into exile. In the days that followed, Bernardo had looked in upon Don Alejandro from the peepholes in the sala and from the one in the library. He hurt for the father of his master, for he could see that Diego's banishment was taking a heavy toll on the older man's soul. Don Alejandro was spending a great deal of time alone, neglecting the daily operations of the rancho, seeming to withdraw from life. He was gruff and curt with the servants and most of them stayed out of sight. Bernardo wished that he could go and tell Don Alejandro everything was going to be all right, that Diego and Zorro would find a way to restore everything to the way it had been. But he could not. He could not reveal himself, nor could he explain everything even if there was a way to contact Don Alejandro. No, he would just have to wait for Diego to return.

He was just coming back from a late night foray into the kitchen to bring back some cheese when he heard voices in the sala. Munching on a slice of the cheese, he opened the hole in the sala wall and paused to listen.

Old Juan had just opened the front door to admit the Magistrado and Sergeant Garcia. Don Alejandro had been sitting alone in the sala, staring into the fire. When Santiago came in, he got to his feet and went to meet him.

"Your Excellency," he said, as Santiago removed his hat. "It is late. What brings you to my house at this hour?"

"Please, Don Alejandro. May we?" said Santiago as he indicated that he wanted to enter the sala.

"Of course," said Don Alejandro as he indicated the chairs by the fireplace. "Juan, bring some wine for our guests."

Before Juan could leave, Santiago held up his hand and said, "Your pardon, Don Alejandro, but no wine, please." Don Alejandro wondered at this, but he waved for Juan to leave them.

Garcia was disappointed. He would miss the good de la Vega wine. He still did not know why he and the Magistrado were here. All he knew was that the Magistrado had ordered that he was to accompany him to the de la Vega hacienda. He sighed to himself as he followed Don Alejandro and Santiago over to the fireplace.

"Please, Don Alejandro, be seated," said Santiago, with all the gentleness he could muster. "I have this evening received an official dispatch containing information which I felt I must deliver to you personally."

Don Alejandro looked at Santiago for a moment, then sank into his chair. "What is it?" he questioned. "What is this news?" He had no idea what Santiago was going to tell him, but he knew to the depths of his soul that he was not going to like it.

Santiago remained standing, with Garcia standing just a step to one side and a little behind him. Looking down at the older man, Santiago said, "Don Alejandro, it is my sad duty to inform you that your son, . . . Diego, . . . is dead." He watched the old don closely. He was not disappointed. From behind him, he heard the gasp from Sergeant Garcia. He suppressed the urge to smile. Maintaining his somber demeanor, he waited upon Don Alejandro.

Don Alejandro's mouth was open and working, but no sounds came forth. He stared up at Santiago's dark eyes, willing the report to be false, but he could see that it was true, horribly true. Then he seemed to shrink within himself and his eyes lost their focus as he withdrew and softly cried, "Diego, my son, . . . ." With both hands, he covered his face.

Sergeant Garcia was stricken with sorrow. He could not believe what he had heard. Don Diego dead? He shook his head to clear it. But from the reaction of Don Alejandro, he knew that he had heard correctly. His friend, Don Diego, was dead. He had to wipe his eyes to clear the tears from them. But what was it Don Diego had asked of him? To take care of his father, yes that was it. Not knowing what else to do, Garcia walked over to Don Alejandro and put his hand on the don's shoulder which he would never have dared to do in other circumstances. "I am so sorry, Don Alejandro," he said. Don Alejandro made no move to show that he acknowledged Garcia's sympathy.

Santiago was elated. He was glad he had made the choice to tell Don Alejandro about Diego's death. This should be the final thing needed to break the old man completely. He had already seen the new and permanent lines in the old man's face and the beginnings of decay around the edges of the rancho from the moment they had arrived. Silently, he thanked Diego for being so accommodating as to kill himself. Again he had to suppress a laugh.

Behind the wall, Bernardo dropped the cheese from nerveless fingers. It lay forgotten on the floor as the servant absorbed the news of his young master's death. His eyes clouded up with tears and many chased their way down his cheeks. He had known that escaping from the ship would be extremely dangerous, and the possibility of death was so very great, but somehow he had felt Diego would make it back. He had never imagined otherwise. And now his young master and friend was dead? He could not take it in. So absorbed was he in his sorrow that he almost missed the rest of the conversation.

Back in the sala, Don Alejandro had managed to pull himself together long enough to ask through a throat constricted with grief, "How . . . ?" he choked out.

"How did he die?" questioned Santiago. At Don Alejandro's silent nod, Santiago said, "Again I must have the sad duty to report that he apparently committed suicide by jumping over the side of the ship in the middle of the night while the _Santa Antonia_ was still miles from shore."

"Suicide?" whispered Don Alejandro in disbelief.

Santiago continued, "Yes, it was suicide. Capitán Zavala of the _Santa Antonia_ reported that his hands were still bound by the manacles he wore and he could not have survived. He left these behind." He handed the suicide note to Don Alejandro and then the rosary beads.

Wiping his eyes, Don Alejandro tried to focus upon the note. He did not have his glasses, but he could make out the writing well enough. When he finished reading the note, he spoke. "He said he was innocent. To the last, he said he was innocent."

"It was proven differently in a court of law, Señor," said Santiago firmly. "Not to be indelicate, Don Alejandro, but why would an innocent man commit suicide?"

For this, Don Alejandro did not have an answer. He looked at the note once again. As he read through it, it came to him that Diego had just been too soft, . . . too soft to make it in a world not paved with his father's wealth and position. He had killed himself rather than scratch out a living in some foreign country as a convicted traitor. Don Alejandro looked up at Santiago and said, "Please. Leave me now."

Santiago bowed and said, "Of course, Don Alejandro. Garcia, come." He turned to leave. Then he stopped and said, "Señor de la Vega? Would you like for me to assign someone to help you with the rancho? There are many who would accept such a position. Even I myself would be glad to render any assistance you may require in your time of need. I have never run a rancho such as this, but I would be willing to try. It was never our intention that you should suffer so from the sordid deeds of your son."

"No, I do not need your help, or the help of anyone else to run this rancho," growled Don Alejandro deep in his throat. "I do not mean to be ungracious, Your Excellency, but would you both please just go and leave me alone?"

Santiago bowed to show his acceptance of Don Alejandro's wishes and motioned for Sergeant Garcia to fall in behind him. His steps felt lighter than air. He felt as good as he had when he had known for a certainty that he was free from the burden of Gracilia's miserable half-life. He was certain he would sleep well tonight, just as he was certain Don Alejandro would not sleep well, if at all.

Bernardo watched through the little hole in the wall as Santiago and Garcia left the hacienda. He saw that, when he was certain he was alone, Don Alejandro dropped Diego's note to the floor as he once again covered his face with his hands. His shoulders shook with the sobs which racked his body. Bernardo cried as well, his heart no less broken in his weeping silence. He slid down the wall of the secret passage until he was sitting on the floor as he wept. How long he sat there, he did not know, but when at last he came to himself, he wiped the wetness from his face and got up stiffly to peer through the hole once again. The sala was empty. Don Alejandro was gone. He opened the secret panel and stepped into the sala. Looking around, he spied the note which was said to have come from Diego. He knelt down beside it. It was the last thing his young master had touched. Reverently, he picked up the piece of paper and read it by the dim light of the fireplace. It was difficult because of his tears to see clearly. But he knew Diego's handwriting and this note was indeed written by his young friend. There was no doubt.

Then something caught his eye. He looked at the capitán's name again. There was something about the first letter of the capitán's name which looked familiar. Then Bernardo's face lit up with a broad smile. That first letter of the capitán's name. It was a letter "Z". That, in and of itself, was not important, but the shape of the letter was all important. It was significantly larger than the other letters and was written with that peculiar shape only Diego used when he was El Zorro. It was formed by three distinct slashes, as though created by the slashes of a flashing sword. The sword of El Zorro. It was Diego's way of telling him that this note was the work of the Fox and that it was part of a plan which would get him off of the ship and back home. The message was meant for Bernardo alone as no one else would likely notice such an insignificant detail. How Diego had known his servant friend would somehow gain access to the note, Bernardo did not know, but he had been right. Bernardo was very glad he was already on his knees as he was certain that he was too weak from relief to stand at the moment. He examined the note again and then, carefully, he replaced the paper in exactly the same place he had found it. He stole back into the highboy and back into the secret passage. He plugged the peep hole once again. He could not help but to keep smiling with his happiness.

Then he sobered. It was clear that the Magistrado believed his young master was dead, but so did Don Alejandro. The pain the older man was going through must be terrible, but Bernardo felt he did not have the liberty to do anything about it. He must wait for Diego. Oh, but the waiting would be hard. He was not sure how much Don Alejandro could take before his heart failed him completely. He did not like doing it, but he ran up the stairs and looked through the opening which was in Don Alejandro's bedroom. He saw that Diego's father was lying across his bed fully clothed, as if he had just fallen into the bed without caring. He could not tell if Don Alejandro was awake or asleep in the darkness, for there was no movement. But at least he knew where Don Alejandro was. Sadly, Bernardo returned to the cave. He was the only other person in the world who knew that Diego was still alive, and that alone gave him a reason to go on living. But Diego's father did not have that knowledge to sustain him. How would he survive?


	74. B3 Ch17: The Fox Returns Home

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 3**

 **Chapter** **17 – _The Fox Returns Home_**

Bernardo found himself drifting toward the entrance to the cave more and more often as the days passed, peering through the vines that draped down like a green curtain. Almost a week had gone by since Diego had been taken to the ship. He scanned the canyon several times each day, repeatedly looking for any sign of Diego. But time and again he was disappointed. Today was no different. It would be dark soon and still no sign of his young master. Letting the branches fall back into place, he decided that he would go and heat some water for a cup of tea. Passing by Tornado, he stroked the stallion's neck a few times in greeting. He had taken Tornado out in the canyon after dark each day to give him some exercise. It was something they both enjoyed as it gave them the chance to get out of the cave for a while. After his tea, they would go out. With one last pat, Bernardo went and stirred up the coals of the fire and added a few pieces of wood.

He was drinking the last of his tea when Tornado snorted and pricked up his ears, looking directly at the cave's entrance. Bernardo put down his cup and ran to get Zorro's pistol, which he kept loaded at all times. He hid behind one of the boulders in the cave.

A man rode into the cave on a ragged horse which had seen better days. The man's clothing was dirty and torn. His dark hair was uncombed and he was wearing a stubbly beard which gave him a very disreputable look. He looked as weary as his horse. The man climbed down slowly from the saddle and looked around. Seeing Tornado, he said, "Well, boy . . . what have you done with Bernardo?"

Joy sprang up in Bernardo's heart for he knew that voice! Running out from behind his rock, he headed for Diego. Diego saw him and waited with a tired, but happy smile on his face. He and Bernardo embraced each other in greeting, patting each other on the back. Finally, Diego held Bernardo out at arm's length and said, "Yes, it is good to be home and good to see you again, my friend. It has been a long, hard road home, but we will speak of that later. First, I am starved. What have you got in here that I can eat?"

Bernardo beamed and made the sign for beef.

He was rather nonplused at Diego's groan of misery.

"Bernardo, I have eaten so much beef since I left here that I will never care if I do not see another cow again, ever!" said Diego, grimacing. Seeing Bernardo's look of dismay, he relented a little and said, "Beef is all you have?" Bernardo nodded. Sighing, Diego said, "Well, cook it up. I am so hungry I will eat even beef right now. I ran out of food yesterday and wasn't able to get any more. And, unlike my valiant steed here, I wasn't able to forage on grass."

Bernardo made a sign to ask about the horse and Diego smiled and said, "Later, later. Just go and start that meat cooking, will you?" He slapped Bernardo affectionately on the shoulder and the servant hurried to obey.

Tired though Diego was, he nevertheless set about to bed down the horse. He tied the weary animal next to Tornado's stall and pulled off the saddle, which he dumped on the ground. The horse immediately starting drinking from the stream which flowed through the cave. Diego pulled some hay close enough so that the horse could get to it and then took an old oat sack and began to rub him down. He was stopped by a hand on his arm and looked around to see Bernardo holding a steaming cup. Bernardo made a motion that he had the beef cooking and he would finish with the horse. Diego nodded gratefully and took the cup of hot tea in his hands.

He walked over to the table and sat down, watching Bernardo and drinking his tea. Bernardo soon had the horse settled and came back over to tend the pot over the fire. He brought out some bread and a bottle of wine and set them on the table. Diego fell upon the bread and consumed it in moments. Bernardo was surprised and brought some more from his stores.

Diego felt better than he had all day. "I am liable to eat you out of house and home tonight, Bernardo. I hope you will be able to 'acquire' more food from my father to refill your larder."

At Bernardo's nod, Diego said with more seriousness, "How is my father? Is he well?" It took Bernardo a few moments, but he was able to communicate that Don Alejandro was well physically, but that his heart was sick and broken from the sadness he felt at the news of Diego's "suicide", not to mention the whole ordeal of the trial and the conviction.

Diego looked into his empty cup for a moment, his jaw muscles working, and then he said firmly, "Well, I have returned now and soon we shall have answers. Soon my father will know that Santiago is the reason that his heart is sick. And soon Señor Santiago will face Zorro." Then, in mockery of Santiago, Diego declared, "And justice will be served." Bernardo nodded in solemn agreement.

The beef was soon ready and Diego put his prejudice aside and consumed all of it, along with the rest of the bread and most of the bottle of wine. Then, as tired as he was, he was not going to go to sleep without a bath and a shave. Bernardo had anticipated his desires and had filled a large tub with water while he was eating.

While Diego scrubbed himself in the tub, Bernardo prepared the shaving kit. He helped Diego into his night shirt and robe, and took away all of his old clothing. None of it was fit to wear any longer and he would dispose of it later. Diego began shaving and it was not long until he looked more like himself again. His hair was another matter. It had somehow taken a life of its own since the swim in the ocean and he could not get one certain lock of hair to stop falling onto his forehead. He gave it one last swipe with the comb, watched it fall back on his forehead, and gave up. All he wanted to do now was climb into a nice, soft bed and fall sound asleep. What little sleep he had gotten lately had been on hard, lumpy ground..

"Which one is mine?" he asked Bernardo, pointing to the beds. Bernardo pointed to the one nearest the wall. "Graciás, Bernardo," said Diego. "Don't wake me unless there is an earthquake or some mischief from the Magistrado. Otherwise let me sleep." Bernardo nodded.

Diego handed the servant his robe and crawled into bed pulling the blanket up to his neck. It felt so good to be clean and well fed, he thought to himself. Now to sleep. He turned on his side as there was a lump in the hay in between his shoulder blades, and took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Bernardo had blown out all but one small candle and was also preparing to get into his bed. "Buenos noches, Bernardo," mumbled Diego, dropping off to sleep.

Bernardo held his candle up so that he could see Diego better in the flickering light. He was very happy to have his friend and master back safely. He watched Diego sleeping for several minutes, just content to know that he was near. There would be time enough tomorrow to find out all that had happened to Diego since he had been taken away from the hacienda. He blew out his candle, got into his bed and pulled his own blanket up around him. He did not know what the next few days might hold, but that did not matter as long as he could be with Diego. He lay for a while in the darkness, listening to the breathing of the young man as he slept. Then, with a smile on his face, he, too, drifted off to sleep.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

The following morning, Diego was up early, feeling much refreshed. He was still somewhat tired from his overland ordeal, but now that he was home all of that was forgotten. Leaving Bernardo to prepare some breakfast, Diego dressed quickly in his blue suit and then slipped down the secret passageways to find his father. He wanted so much to see him. He did not find him in the sala or the library, so he went upstairs to his father's room. Opening the peep hole, he looked in. There was just enough light in the room to make out shapes and shadows, all in various shades of grey. Then he saw his father's bed. What he saw there, shocked him. In the grey, dim light before the new dawn, Don Alejandro was curled up on his bed almost in a fetal position and his bedclothes were twisted and rumpled and mostly hanging over the side of the bed as though his father had tossed and turned all night.

Lying there, Diego's father, once so strong, looked to be so very frail and weak. As Diego watched, Don Alejandro moaned in his sleep and stretched out his arm as though straining to reach something or someone. "Isabella!" he cried out in his sleep. "Isabella!" Then he thrashed about for a moment before becoming motionless once again. The rest of the bed clothes slid silently onto the floor.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Diego scrubbed his face with his hand. His poor father. Despite all which had happened to Diego, between the two of them it seemed that his father had born the worst of the whole affair. Diego vowed to himself that Santiago would pay for what he had done. Once again, his father moaned softly. Without stopping to think, Diego opened the secret panel into his father's room and stepped into the corner of the deep shadow created by the bulk of the armoire. Seeing that his father did not move again, he went to the side of the bed. Silently, he gathered the bedclothes and gently drew them up to cover his father. Tenderly, he arranged the sheets and coverlet, tucking them in around Don Alejandro. He used one finger to push an errant lock of hair back from his father's forehead and then he leaned forward to place a kiss there.

"Mmmphhff," said Don Alejandro as he seemed to rouse from his sleep a little in response. Then he snuggled deeper into the blankets and let out a long deep sigh. "No, querida," the older man mumbled in his sleep. "Diego will be all right. I will watch over him. You just try and rest. You must save your strength. The doctor will be here soon . . . ." His voice trailed off.

Then Diego thought he could hear the sounds of his father softly weeping in his sleep. He knew that his father was reliving the death of his beloved wife, Diego's mother. Diego's heart was deeply touched. Losing his wife had been the only time Diego had ever seen his father cry. Almost, he reached out to awaken his father, but stayed his hand at the last moment. Diego had only the vaguest beginnings of a plan to expose Santiago for the dishonorable man and murderer he was. For any plan to work, Diego must remain unseen by everyone, including his father. Everyone, and most especially the Magistrado, must continue to think Diego was dead. If things were to be set right again, it would be up to El Zorro to do it. Don Alejandro was going to be an integral part of his plans, and Diego knew that only Zorro, the real Zorro, could hope to command his father's respect and gain his cooperation. He, as Diego, could not. That was clear. It would be up to Zorro to convince Don Alejandro of Santiago's duplicity and that it was he who directed the false Zorro to both kill Gracilia and frame Diego for treason. Until this was over, Diego did not exist. There was only El Zorro.

Smoothing the blanket one last time, Diego got up and moved toward the secret panel. He was stopped when he heard his father's voice behind him. "Diego?" He turned around and saw his father still lying on the bed, blinking as he tried to focus his eyes upon Diego. Stepping back further into the dark shadows near the armoire, Diego said softly, "No, Señor de la Vega. It is but a dream. Go back to sleep. What you see is only a shadow of what was." He stepped back into the secret passage and silently closed the panel. Then he went over to the peephole to watch.

Don Alejandro had thrown off his blanket and had gotten up. "Diego?" he called once again. Holding his hand out before him, Don Alejandro walked over to the place where he had seen Diego and met only the wall. As though he could not believe it, he felt along the wooden wall panels, looking for the someone he thought he had seen. Then he stumbled back to his bed and sat down its edge, looking forlornly at the place where Diego's ghost had disappeared. He rubbed his face with his hand and ran it through his hair as he said, "A dream, . . . it was only a dream, . . . ."

With a great sigh, Don Alejandro lay back down and pulled his bedclothes back over himself. "A dream," he mumbled one more time before he became still again, and Diego hoped that he had fallen back to sleep.

Diego closed the peephole and leaned back against the wall of the passage. The Magistrado would rue the day he ever came to Los Angeles, he vowed to himself. What that sly one had done to both himself and Bernardo was inexcusable, but to cause his father so much misery was not to be forgiven, not to mention the deaths of Gracilia, the lancers and the kidnaping of Eduardo. He clenched his fists and thrust himself away from the wall as he swept down the passageways going back to the cave.

Bernardo knew something was wrong as soon as he saw Diego enter the cave and he could guess at the cause. He'd had some time to become somewhat accustomed to Don Alejandro's condition, but this was Diego's first exposure to it. But, along with the sorrow he saw mirrored in Diego's eyes, he saw a clarity of purpose not to be denied.

"Jorgé Martinez Santiago is going to pay for his crimes," Diego declared firmly. Bernardo nodded solemnly in agreement. Diego looked back along the passages in the direction of his father's room. "This whole thing is destroying my father," he said. "He is sick in his soul. I find myself fearing that he will die from a broken spirit before we can take action against Santiago."

Diego sat down to the breakfast Bernardo had prepared, but he only toyed with his food as he thought about his father. He spoke again. "Why did I not see all of this coming, Bernardo? I have asked myself that question a thousand times. Why did I not pay more heed to your skepticism? Am I really so blind?" He did not expect an answer, but Bernardo had something to say in response. He had had a great deal of time to think while Diego had been gone and he had watched what the trial and then the news of Diego's "death" had done to Don Alejandro. He did not have all the answers, but he had some things he wanted to say to Diego. Again, the concepts were very difficult for a man without spoken words to convey, but with time and Diego's aptitude for understanding, Bernardo was able to communicate that which was on his mind.

 _"Deep in your heart you have a duty to your family founded upon honor and upon love,"_ Bernardo began. _"Señor Santiago did not know this about you, but he tapped into it when he asked you to be his deputy. You saw in this a future where your father could be proud of you for who you are."_ Diego nodded thoughtfully. _"However, Señor Santiago had his own plans for your future. He was building his own future by using you. You wanted so much to gain the respect of your father that you did not see that he was using you."_ Diego glared at him, not for telling the truth, but because it was the truth. He had been used by the Magistrado. Bernardo continued. _"He was everything you wanted him to be. He was everything that you are."_ Diego furrowed his brow. _"Yes. On the surface, he is you, my young friend. A quick intelligence, a keen mind, interested in the same things as you. Music, . . . books, . . . fencing . . . . And further, just beneath the skin, he is a man of honor and integrity, a servant of Señorita Justice even as you are."_ Diego did not respond. He just continued to watch Bernardo sign. _"He used you. He manipulated you. He was more successful than he knew because of who you are. He pushed you into a place where you could not get out. Like the serpent that he is, Señor Santiago is poised to strike, but you were not his prey."_ Bernardo paused and then signed, _"It is your father."_

Diego looked at Bernardo in surprise. "What do you mean?" he asked softly.

Bernardo sighed. This was going to be the hardest part to get across. _"I have been thinking all the time you have been gone,"_ he signed. _"Señor Santiago has gone to elaborate lengths to set you up for the trial. You are the son of the most powerful and influential landholder in California. But even as his son, you do not hold title to any of the lands or possessions of your father. Killing you has no advantages in that regard. But Santiago intended to see you hanged for treason. Why treason? There are a thousand other ways to have you killed which are quicker and less troublesome. He has chosen treason for a particular reason. I think that he has made a complete study of your father and has found his weakness."_

"And that is?" asked Diego.

Bernardo pointed at Diego. _You._

"Me?" said Diego.

 _"Yes,"_ signed Bernardo. _"Your father is a wealthy and powerful man. He cannot be attacked by a frontal assault. He still has powerful connections in Spain and he has the favor of the Governor. He is a leader of men, well respected by all the other landholders and has great influence over many others. A man of great personal honor. No one has ever questioned his honesty or his integrity. Señor Santiago wants something from your father which he cannot have. Charging him directly with treason would not work and he knew it. No one would believe such charges against your father, not after his actions against the Eagle in defense of California and the king. But I still believe that Señor Santiago wants something from your father and he knew that charging you with treason was the answer. He was sure that securing your conviction and seeing you hanged would get him what he wants. Think about what your conviction for treason has done to your father."_

Diego said, "Above all things, my father despises traitors to his king and his country." Toying thoughtfully with his food once more, he continued, "If I were to be convicted of such a crime, . . . if I, the only son of Alejandro de la Vega were to be convicted of treason, it would destroy him."

Bernardo nodded slowly in agreement. Then he signed, _"Your father loves you very much. So much that he allowed you be the Diego after Spain even though that Diego is not the son in whom he can take pride. He swallows that bitterness in light of the love he bears for you. It is that love that Señor Santiago has seized upon as his weapon against your father. Once you were convicted of treason and hanged, your father's love for you would be shattered. He would be humiliated among his peers for having such a son; the shame will bear down upon him. He will have no heir and no grandchildren to carry on the de la Vega lineage. This is when the serpent's poison will have done its work."_

"My father will be vulnerable to anything that Santiago wishes to try," Diego said with certainty. "Because my father does not know that the Magistrado is anything but an honorable man." Bernardo solemnly nodded his agreement. Diego pounded his thigh in frustration.

"I just wish I knew more about Santiago's ultimate goals for this scheme of his." Something came to his mind then. Gracilia's letter. "Where is the note I picked up the night I helped you to escape from the cuartel?" he asked. "I want to read it again."

Bernardo went and got the letter. Diego perused the letter again. "Listen," he said  
 _"Jorgé will destroy your father's soul. Jorgé wants all the land. Your father's land. All the land of California."_ he read.  
"I had nearly forgotten this. More of the puzzle falls into place my friend. We know from this that Santiago wants land, a great deal of it. He was willing to kill me to get to my father, to be able to manipulate him in some way. _'Jorge will destroy your father's soul,'_ " he repeated softly. "He has very nearly done this. And, as you say, with my conviction and now my 'death', my father is at his weakest. I wonder what Santiago's next move will be?"

Bernardo could only shrug. He did not know.

Diego knew that under normal circumstances, no man could take his father's land from him by force or other means without the elder de la Vega defending his land to the last drop of his blood. That was because the land was his life's blood. However, his father's pride and honor were also a part of his being. No more mortal blow could have been struck than to attack him there. And what could destroy his father's soul better than to have his one and only son convicted as a vile conspirator and traitor? Bernardo was so very right in his assessments. His father had already been struggling to accept Diego as the poet and scholar that he had become upon his return from Spain. His disappointment in his son was deep and never well hidden, though Diego knew that his father still loved him. But the trial, and now the conviction, would be the knife in his father's heart. With the de la Vega honor in shambles and with no heir to inherit all that Don Alejandro had worked his whole life to build up, it was quite conceivable that Santiago could prey upon his father's weakened state. Anything was possible, even to the loss of the de la Vega rancho to whatever scheme Santiago might choose to employ. The image of the serpent flashed across Diego's mind once again.

Concerned for Don Alejandro, Bernardo motioned to ask if Diego was going to let Don Alejandro know that he was alive.

Diego shook his head no. "To have any hope of combating the Magistrado, I will have to preserve the fiction of Diego's death. At least for now, my father must believe that as well, so that the Magistrado and others do not find out otherwise." Bernardo nodded. Diego continued.

"Now I must resume the hidden identity which became mine when I first returned from Spain. It is the only identity left to me. Together, Zorro and my father must work to expose Señor Santiago for who he is. A perpetrator of fraud and of miscarriage of justice as well as a vile murderer. A man in whom there is no honor. El Zorro shall redeem both his own honor and that of Diego de la Vega and see that upon the Magistrado . . . _'Justice is served'"_

* * *

 **END OF BOOK 3**

* * *

NEXT is BOOK 4: Resurrection


	75. B4 Ch1: The Fox Reborn

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

 **Accountholder's Note:** Here begins BOOK 4 of Treason's revelation, the ' **Resurrection** ' book.

* * *

 **Summary BOOK 4 (Resurrection):** _After his perilous escape, Diego has finally made his way back to Los Angeles and is in hiding. With the suicide of the traitor, Diego de la Vega, being common knowledge, Zorro rises once again against the injustice done to both his identities. But as he and Bernardo prepare to take on the Magistrado's schemes with the people against them, is it even still possible to get justice? The tables have turned. Their enemies' true identity has been revealed and now it is Diego who's nature and plans are shadowed from his opponent. Still, with Santiago as his strongest, and most cunning enemy yet, can the Fox defeat the Snake before his plans for California come to fruition and everything that Zorro stands for and Diego cares about, including his father, is made collateral?_

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter 1 – _The Fox Reborn_**

"Bernardo, we know how meticulous Santiago has been with his plans," said Diego, as the day turned into night. "What do you suppose would happen if one of his operatives was to do the unexpected?" Bernardo looked a question. Diego continued, "I mean, what if Santiago's Zorro was to appear in the pueblo at odd moments, contrary to the Magistrado's wishes?" Bernardo shrugged his shoulders. Diego's eyes acquired a foxy gleam in them. "Would he not be quite anxious to bring his Zorro back in line? And failing that, would he not have to do something about him?" Bernardo agreed that this was probably so. "Right. Would he not also think that he could no longer trust his operative? He would grow increasingly suspicious of his Zorro. He might even order him eliminated just to protect himself, eh?"

Bernardo grinned to show that he was with Diego now. _Yes, let the enemy feed upon itself,_ he thought.

"Good. Then go and saddle Tornado while I change." said Diego, slapping Bernardo on the shoulder. "I think Zorro will be seen causing a little trouble in the pueblo tonight. The Magistrado will undoubtedly hear something of it." Smiling, Bernardo went to saddle the stallion.

Diego entered the small room and placed the lantern on one of the pegs in the wall. By the light of the lamp, he was able to see the black clothing hanging there. Bits of the candlelight were flashed back to him in silver from the hilt of the sword of Zorro and the silver braid on the outlaw's black hat. He stood quietly by the garments and, after a moment, slowly reached up to touch the silken black fabric of the cape.

As the cloth flowed over his fingers, he was reminded of the first time he had worn the costume of the Fox. Fresh from Spain and full of youthful ideals, he had donned the black clothing and had gone forth to challenge and confound the petty tyranny of Capitán Monastario. It was a heady time, full of danger for an untried youth. But he had risen to the challenge as he sought justice for those whom Monastario had wronged. The censure and disapproval of his father for the Diego he'd had to become had caused him no little distress, but the greater good he was able to accomplish as the masked outlaw had been worth it. Seeing Don Ignacio and his father absolved of treason, foiling Monastario's plans to discredit Zorro with the people, and ultimately the removal of Monastario by the Viceroy were all things that Diego was proud to recall. And the Eagle. The menace of Monastario had been as nothing compared to the evil represented by the Eagle and his minions. Any thoughts of letting Zorro fade away had been forgotten when that threat had arisen.

Again, Diego let his hands run over the black silk, at last picking up the small piece of black cloth which concealed Zorro's identity from the world. Yes, he had been proud of his accomplishments as the masked rider. It had not mattered to him that none of the people knew whose face was hidden behind this bit of cloth. They had come to know that they could count upon the masked outlaw to come to their aid in times of trouble. The Black Angel of Los Angeles, he had been called. Their happy smiles as they watched him ride away had been reward enough for his efforts.

But now . . .

Now, a mask, twin to the one he held in his hands, concealed a man who had laid claim to the name of Zorro. This man had done evil things in Zorro's name that could never be forgiven. Robbing the poor, burning their homes, kidnaping a child, and even killing. Not the honorable killing of man to man, but the killing of a totally defenseless and helpless woman, an invalid, who had not a hope of a chance against him. Diego crushed the piece of fabric between his hands. The imposter must be stopped. Would be stopped. And no one could do the job but the very man whom the vile outlaw continued to impersonate: Zorro. The _real_ Zorro.

"Uresti will not escape justice," Diego said out loud. He turned to see Bernardo watching him. His faithful servant nodded in silent and solemn agreement. Diego regarded him for a moment, knowing that Bernardo knew his heart. Then, as they had so many times in the past, they turned together to the task of transforming Diego into El Zorro.

As Bernardo helped his young master, he thought about the first time he had witnessed the transformation. He had known then that the man standing before him dressed as Zorro was Diego, but there was something more there than he had seen before. Still so very young, Diego had a presence about him when clothed in the black which few men possessed. It was as if Diego's inner soul was set free by the change in his clothing. You could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. He was much more than the Diego of Los Angeles, he was more even than the Diego of Madrid in Spain. He was El Zorro.

When Bernardo had first witnessed the transformation, Zorro had already tried his skills against the powerful Monastario and had won his first victory. This was before he had shown Bernardo all the secrets of the hacienda. Bernardo could see that this man known to others only as Zorro was supremely confident in the rightness of his chosen calling. Oh, he had made a miscalculation or two in the beginning due to his inexperience, but that in no way cast a shadow on who he was or the course his life had taken. Bernardo had also been privileged to witness how Diego had matured into the role of the Fox from the untried youth he had been. Daring and strong, quick and agile, intelligent and fearless in the defense of those whom he had sworn to serve, Diego as Zorro was a man to be reckoned with.

But there was also a side of Diego that no one but the faithful mozo was able to see. The relationship between the two of them was something which was difficult to put into words. Bernardo was Diego's servant. Of that, there was no question. His portion in life was to serve his young master to the best of his abilities. But he also knew that if the time ever came, Diego would lay down his life for Bernardo without hesitation, valuing the life of his servant above even that of his own. He had already risked his life in that cause many times. And that was the ultimate measure of a true friend. Diego was pleased to call Bernardo "friend" and that was worth more to Bernardo than all the gold in the palace of the king. For that alone, Bernardo would be devoted to Diego until his own death took him away.

Bernardo was also proud to serve a man who fought on the side of right despite the personal costs. Diego's chosen path put him at odds with his father and on more than one occasion Bernardo had witnessed the pain his young master had born because of it. He was also proud to have Diego teach him the sword and various other weapons, along with horsemanship. He had never thought in his life that he would aspire to know these things. And he was being taught by the best. Of that, there was no doubt. He had surprised even himself by seeing what he was able to learn about these things. He was no match for Zorro, but he could give quite a good account of himself, so much so that Diego had been pleased to let Bernardo be his fencing partner as he honed his own skills.

Bernardo frowned. This brought up a point which he had pondered over and over for the past many months. After a time, Diego had discontinued practicing his fencing when he had taken the job offered to him by the Magistrado. Had his skills diminished? Prior to the coming of the Magistrado, Diego had been very conscientious in his fencing practice. As Zorro, he could ill afford not to be at the top of his form. But now, what was the result of his absence from the practice floor? When Zorro confronted the Magistrado, as he would ultimately have to do, would Zorro's skill with the blade be enough to defeat Santiago who was a masterswordsman himself? And more immediately, what of this Uresti, the man who was the imposter? What would happen when Zorro caught up with him?

As Zorro turned to take the gloves from Bernardo's hands, he saw something was troubling his friend. "What is wrong?" he asked. Bernardo was not sure how to bring up the subject, but his worries would not leave him alone. He began to sign. "You worry about me?" A nod and more signs. "You are worried to know if I still know how to use this?" Zorro indicated his sword. Bernardo nodded and signed again. Zorro put his hand on the servant's shoulder as he said, "I do not know how much of my edge I may have lost, my friend. That is just something I will have to discover for myself. But I cannot wait while I practice my fencing to remove this false imposter from doing more evil in my name. He must be stopped. _Now._ Bernardo nodded to show that he understood, but his concern was still evident on his face.

"There is danger," Zorro agreed. "But there is always danger when I ride." Bernardo knew that this was true. Zorro continued, "But will I promise you, that every spare moment that I can find from now on will be spent in practicing my fencing. That is where you can help me." Bernardo brightened. Tapping Bernardo fondly on the stomach with the back of his hand, Zorro said, "And I think you had better start your basic exercises right away or you will never keep up with me, eh?" He smiled. Bernardo feigned being insulted, then he smiled shyly. He agreed that he would begin at once.

"Bravo, my friend!" said Zorro, clapping Bernardo on the back. "Now I must be off to see what mischief I can create in the pueblo."

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Although it was night, it was not yet so late, and the sentries had not had time to grow very sleepy. The plaza was quiet with only one or two people who could be seen walking along to wherever it was they belonged. Most people were still afraid that there would be reprisals from El Zorro for the conviction of Diego de la Vega and they stayed home after dark. However, there were some of the more adventurous souls who came to the tavern for a glass of wine and to talk of the events of the recent past. Two of those men finished their wine and started out of the tavern to get their horses. Just as they loosened the reins from the hitching rail, from out of nowhere a black specter flew through the plaza brandishing his sword over his head. "Zorro!" they cried in unison as their horses tore the reins from their hands and fled in fright. Zorro rode through the plaza and was gone before the sentries at the cuartel could gather their wits. But they, like the vaqueros standing slack jawed in front of the tavern, knew what they had seen. One of them ran to the office to report to the capitán.

"Yes? What is it?" Hidalgo called out, annoyed at the knock on his office door.

The sentry entered and said breathlessly, "Capitán! It was Zorro! Zorro just rode through the plaza!"

"Are you certain?" asked Hidalgo. He had not heard that Santiago had planned any further appearances of the masked outlaw since the trial had ended.

"Sí, Capitán!" said the sentry. "I saw him myself!"

"And you didn't shoot him?" Hidalgo queried.

Abashed, the sentry stammered, "N, . . no, Capitán. He was there and then he was gone so quickly, that, . . . ." He trailed off.

"What else did he do?" asked Hidalgo, interrupting.

"Nothing," reported the sentry. "He just rode through the plaza as fast as he could, swinging his sword over his head. He scared a couple of vaqueros who were coming out of the tavern at the time. Then he just disappeared." The sentry shrugged.

"Return to your post," ordered Hidalgo. "And stay alert from now on."

"Sí, Capitán!" said the sentry with a salute. He was glad to get away from Hidalgo with no more than an admonition. He had feared worse.

Hidalgo wasted no time in getting his hat and strapping on his sword. Soon he was striding across the darkened plaza to the office of the Magistrado where he could see a light shining through the window. He was admitted. He did not see the black shadow which had followed him and stopped outside the window.

"Capitán Hidalgo," said Santiago from behind his desk. "What brings you to my office at this hour?"

"Magistrado, did you hear someone ride a horse through the plaza at a gallop just a short time ago?" asked Hidalgo.

Santiago mused for a moment and then said, "Yes, I do seem to recall hearing that."

"It was Zorro, Your Excellency."

"Zorro?" exclaimed Santiago, sitting up straight in his chair. "You are mistaken."

"No, Your Excellency. The sentries saw him ride through the plaza only moments ago."

"I gave no orders for Zorro to be seen tonight," said Santiago. "What is that fool Uresti thinking?"

"I do not know, Your Excellency," said Hidalgo. "I am only reporting what my sentries saw. There were also a couple of vaqueros in front of the tavern who saw him as well."

Santiago did not like this at all. He did not like surprises. "Very well, Capitán. I will send Lozano immediately to find out what is going on. When you return to the cuartel, stop by his place and send him to me."

Hidalgo gave a small bow. "At once, Magistrado." He left the office and went down the stairs.

The shadow which had been outside the window disappeared, but a large smile could be seen in the darkness if one knew just where to look. _"It begins,"_ said Zorro to himself. He remained hidden until Lozano had made his way across the plaza and up into the Magistrado's office. Then he placed himself at the window once again. He saw that Santiago had gotten up and was pacing in front of his desk. He stopped when Lozano entered the room.

"Magistrado? You wished to see me?" asked Lozano.

"Sí," said Santiago. "Hidalgo told you?" Lozano nodded and Santiago continued. "I want you to go to San Pedro and find out what is going on. Uresti is supposed to be there with his mistress, not running around in Los Angeles. I gave no orders for any such appearance by Zorro. You will take whatever steps are necessary to find him and make sure that he understands this. He is to wait for my orders before making any more moves. Then, I want you to report back to me no matter how late the hour when you return. Understand?"

"Sí, Magistrado," said Lozano. "I will go at once."

Zorro pulled back into the shadows once again as Lozano ran lightly down the stairs. He peeked in to see Santiago throw himself into his chair and mutter, "That fool Uresti had better not mistake my orders again." Then the Magistrado took up his papers once more and resumed his perusal of them which had been interrupted. Zorro smiled, and then went to find Tornado. It would seem that Santiago was quite sure that the Zorro which had been seen in the pueblo could only have been Uresti. There was no thought that he could be someone else. For now, that was good. But soon he would know differently. In a short time, Zorro was riding across the countryside heading toward San Pedro. On Tornado, he would make the trip in less than one third the time it had taken him the last time he had gone to that little town. He was sure he would reach the sleepy little village before Lozano, where he was going to shadow Santiago's operative to see what transpired when Lozano confronted Uresti.

He waited in a grove of trees just outside of the village and watched as Lozano rode past. "Now, quietly boy, let us follow him," he whispered to Tornado, who nodded his head in seeming understanding. Silently, they followed Lozano through the village at a little distance, ducking behind a small shack when Lozano pulled up at a mud hut at the far edge of town, not far from the bay waters. Zorro dismounted and slipped along in the darkness to get closer.

Lozano tied his horse and went to stand in front of the faded, green blanket which served as the door for the one room hut. "Hola" he called. He could see shadows behind the blanket cast there by the lone candle in the room.

In a moment, a woman came up behind the blanket and said, "Who is it?" She did not sound particularly friendly.

"You know who I am," said Lozano to the shadow. The woman pushed the blanket aside so that he could see her face. She was not a young woman, looking as though she seen many hard years in her life. But even for all that, she was still quite a handsome woman. Lozano still could not see inside. "Is he here?" he asked. As an answer, the woman stepped back, holding the curtain aside so Lozano could come in. When he was inside, he could see Uresti lounging on the only bed in the room, nursing a bottle of wine. The woman went over to the bed and sat down beside Uresti who stroked her black hair with one of his hands.

Unseen, Zorro slipped up to the door and pushed aside the old blanket just enough to peer inside to watch the proceedings.

Not taking his eyes off of the woman, Uresti asked in his gravelly voice, "What do you want, Lozano?"

"You know what I want," said Lozano.

Uresti took a long drink from his bottle. Then he looked at Lozano. "No, I do not know what you want. What are you talking about?"

Lozano sighed in frustration. He could tell that Uresti had been drinking heavily and was most likely drunk. "Why were you seen in Los Angeles earlier tonight? You had no orders to be there. The Magistrado is not pleased."

"You are mistaken, Señor," said Uresti. "I was never in Los Angeles tonight. I have been here with my sweet Lolita. Come here, my sweet." He pulled Lolita to him and kissed her.

"Zorro was seen tonight in Los Angeles," stated Lozano.

"What is that to me?" said Uresti. "The Magistrado said I could have some time with my little chiquita here, and that is all that I know. Now go away and leave me alone. I have more important things on my mind." Lolita giggled as Uresti pulled her tighter within his arm.

"All right, I will go," said Lozano, confused by what he was seeing. It did not appear that Uresti had stirred from the side of his mistress this night. But he still had his warning to deliver. "If we find out that you were lying, it will go the worse for you. Wait for your orders before doing anything else. Remember, the Magistrado holds all the cards. The cards with eagles on them."

Uresti sat up, almost spilling Lolita onto the floor. "You do not have to remind me!" he growled. "Now go! Go before I decide to forget that!" He glared at Lozano who reached for the handle of his pistol.

Lozano tightened his fist around the handle of his pistol. He had no love for Uresti. In any other circumstances, he might have just shot Uresti and have been done with it, but Uresti was Santiago's man, just as he was. He would just have to put up with him for now. With a scowl, he whipped the blanket out of his way as he turned to leave. As he strode over to his horse, Lozano had a bad taste in his mouth. It did not help that he could hear Lolita giggling again from within the little hut. Angry, he mounted his horse and rode back toward Los Angeles.

Zorro took another moment to catch his breath. Lozano's sudden departure had almost ruined everything. Only his quick reflexes had allowed him to leap out of the way in time. That danger past, he took a quick peek through the blanket into the hut to see that Uresti was completely occupied with his mistress before running silently to Tornado. He was very pleased at the near altercation he had caused between the two men. He had to hold himself back from taking on Uresti himself as he thought about the fact that Uresti was the man who had killed Señora Gracilia. Such were not his plans, however. He was not yet ready for Santiago to know that the real Zorro was about. No, Uresti was useful to him now as a means to sow dissension and confusion into Santiago's plans. But before this was over, he promised to himself, Uresti would answer for his crimes.


	76. B4 Ch2: The Plan Comes to Light

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter 2 – _The Plan Comes to Light_**

Zorro rode Tornado back to Los Angeles, arriving before Lozano could report back to Santiago. It was very late, but Santiago's light was still on in his second floor office and that is where Lozano went immediately upon his return from San Pedro. Once again, Zorro took up his silent position outside the window.

"Well?" said Santiago, as Lozano came into the room.

"I am not sure," said Lozano. "He claims to have been in San Pedro all night."

"Impossible," said Santiago. "How was he when you found him?"

"He was with his mistress and he had been drinking heavily," said Lozano.

"Mmmmm, . . ." said Santiago, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Would you say he was drunk?"

"Sometimes with him it is hard to tell, Your Excellency," said Lozano. "But I would say that he was drunk."

"Yes, I have seen Uresti when he was drunk," said Santiago. "His drinking is a weakness. Just as is his infatuation with that woman of his. I suppose it is possible that he might have ridden through here in a drunken stupor and then he was not able to remember what he had done. It is the only explanation that would make sense."

"It could not have been someone else?" ventured Lozano. He was not so sure that Santiago's explanation was correct. Uresti had been drunk, yes, but he had also been quite lucid.

"Someone else?" asked Santiago. "Who?"

"I do not know, Your Excellency," said Lozano. "I, . . . ." He was interrupted.

"No, it had to be Uresti," said Santiago with confidence. "You gave him my warning to wait for my orders, did you not?"

"Sí, Your Excellency," said Lozano.

"Good, then that matter should be settled," said Santiago, leaning back in his chair. "Uresti knows he must obey me. It won't happen again. He's too smart for that now that he knows I am watching him." Santiago leaned forward again. "Now to another matter. I am letting Don Alejandro stew in his own despair for the present time. In a week, I will present my offer to buy the rancho. He may not be receptive, but I will have planted the seed. You will continue to stir up stories of Zorro's army and keep Diego's name and his father's humiliation circulating among the people. At some point, de la Vega will crack and he will accept my offer. If he does not die in his bed of a broken heart, that is." Santiago smiled. "You have your orders, Lozano. You may retire."

Bowing, Lozano said, "Magistrado," in acknowledgment as he turned to leave. He was rather miffed at being dismissed so out of hand after riding all the long way to San Pedro and back. Then he shrugged his shoulders. It was all in a day's work for the Magistrado. What choice had he? He knew where his future lay as long as Santiago held the cards with the eagles on them as he had reminded Uresti. He would leave the problem of Uresti with Santiago who seemed to have made up his mind about just what had happened. Lozano was just going to follow his orders and keep his own nose clean. That was what the Magistrado wanted and that was what he would get. Tired, he rubbed the back of his neck as he walked down the stairs, looking forward to falling back into his bed to get some sleep.

From the shadows, Zorro watched him go. Things were shaping up just as he had hoped. Then he looked in on Santiago through the window once again. The Magistrado was putting his papers away. It seemed that he was going to turn in for the night as well. However, Santiago did something that Zorro thought was odd. He stopped by the end of his credenza and pushed it with his knee, barely moving it any distance at all back against the wall. Seeming to be satisfied with this action, he then put on his hat and picked up his sword in its sheath as he prepared to blow out the candle. Carrying his sword, he exited the office and locked the door. Zorro watched from the shadows around the corner of the balcony, standing as still as death for he did not wish the Magistrado to become aware of him as yet. Santiago started down the stairs and then paused, looking around as though he knew someone was there. Zorro held his breath. Santiago looked around some more and then seeing nothing, continued his descent. Soon, he entered his house and shut the door. All was quiet.

Zorro slipped over to the door of the office. It was the work of a few moments to open the door with another of Bernardo's lock picks. Looking around once more, he stepped quietly into the office and closed the door behind him. Tonight, he was going to take the opportunity to go through the Magistrado's papers and try to find the pieces he was missing to the puzzle of Señor Santiago. There must be something which would tell him why he and Bernardo had been marked for death and why Santiago had gone through such machinations to achieve his goals.

It was quite dark in the room. In order to examine any documents or letters, Zorro would have to risk lighting a candle. He did so, first placing the candle on the floor to minimize the light which might show through the windows. There was still the risk that someone would notice the soft, faint glow in what should have been a completely darkened room. He would just have to take that chance. He crouched low to keep his silhouette down.

Having worked with the Magistrado as the man's deputy gave Zorro an idea where to look for the papers which Santiago did not want others to see. There were several drawers which were secured by locks in both the desk and the credenza. Methodically, Zorro opened and examined the papers in all of them, kneeling by the candle to read. He saw a letter from Judge Vasca detailing his itinerary for the next few weeks. The other papers had to do with current legal proceedings in and around the district, some of which Diego himself had been involved. There were documents in his own handwriting among those of Santiago's. But there was nothing which gave a clue as to why Diego had been framed as a traitor. Discouraged, Zorro put all the papers back and knelt on one knee by the candle as he looked around for more places to search. Then he saw it. A small area of the floor that was scuffed in a peculiar manner right in front of the credenza. Had he been standing, he doubted whether he would have seen it. He remembered Santiago pushing at the credenza with his knee. Holding the candle closer, he noticed that the scuff mark was somewhat circular as though . . . .

Setting the candle down upon the floor, Zorro grabbed the corners of the credenza and moved the end away from the wall. Picking up the candle, he investigated the back of the credenza. There, in a secret compartment constructed in the back, was a leather portfolio thick with papers. The light from the candle revealed the fanciful engraving which embossed the surface. He could see that it was the same design as graced the hilt of Santiago's sword. A stylized letter "S", which appeared to become a serpent. Quickly, Zorro opened the portfolio and began reading in the dim candle light. The first things he saw were deeds to some of the smaller ranchos in the district, most of them near Santa Barbara. Many, if not all of them, had been confiscated due to nonpayment of taxes. There was nothing illegal about that except all of these deeds were issued in the name of Jorgé Martinez Santiago. So, Señor Santiago was accumulating land. Remembering Gracilia's note, Zorro read on. He wondered if Santiago had paid the taxes due. If he had, then these deeds were legal. If he had not, then the Magistrado had stolen land from the king since all land confiscated for back taxes was the property of His Majesty until such time as he or his representatives might award it to another, or authorize its sale.

Setting those documents aside, Zorro pulled out more papers. He unfolded a large map of the district next and saw each rancho and village clearly marked. His eyes were drawn to the area of the map concerning his father's holdings and what he saw there gave him pause. Where normally would appear the name of his father, a line was drawn through that and he saw _Rancho de Santiago_ written above it in Santiago's concise handwriting. A righteous anger filled Zorro then at the affront to his father's name being stricken in this manner. But he set that aside as he continued to examine the map. He saw the names of the other ranchos and the dons who owned them. Beside each one were small notations which contained the number of family members, vaqueros and servants, followed by the number of cattle, horses and other livestock. Santiago had placed a value by each rancho and then beneath that another value, much, much smaller. The notation by the _Rancho de Santiago_ not only had the dual valuations, but another note which read, _"Don Alejandro-most powerful man in Alta California. Where he leads, others follow. Destroy Don Alejandro and the others will crumble. Remove their leader and the others will flee. Son Diego- not a factor."_

He looked at the rest of the map, noticing the notation next to the Rancho Caldón. _"Don Alfredo has already considered leaving California once, during the time of the Eagle. Another such conspiracy would scare him into leaving the country to protect his family, if Don Alejandro is not there to persuade him otherwise. Don Alejandro must be neutralized."_ As Zorro looked at the map, he saw other notations about the enumeration of the people and wealth of the other ranchos. He also saw notations about the weaknesses of each don and many references as to the influence of his father. Around the area of Santa Barbara on the map, he saw that Santiago had marked in red the lands he already held. By this map, Zorro could see the meticulous planning which Santiago had done as he prepared to make his move. He had used his position as Magistrado to visit each rancho and gather his information. That was why he had made such an effort when he had first come to the district to go to each rancho and visit each don. He was taking notes. Evaluating his targets. What Gracilia's note and this map made clear was Santiago's designs for owning vast portions of Alta California, if not the whole of Spain's colony here.

He noticed another notation in the margin of the map in Santiago's handwriting. It said, _"Legal ownership of the land is preferable to confiscation. Use the supposed conspiracy to frighten the dons and rancheros, and legally purchase their lands when they flee. Should have to pay no more than one quarter of what the lands and livestock are worth."_ Zorro looked at the numeric notations on the map once again. For the Rancho de la Vega, now Rancho de Santiago, he saw that the top figure was quite close to the valuation he himself would give his father's holdings. The figure underneath was exactly one quarter of the top figure. So, Santiago was expecting to be able to purchase all the ranchos in the district for one fourth of their values . . . or perhaps even less if he could frighten the people with the manufactured conspiracy using the false Zorro. He remembered Santiago's words to Lozano concerning the offer he was going to make to Don Alejandro in the next week or so.

The picture was becoming quite clear for Zorro. Most of Santiago's plan was known to him now. The Magistrado had designs to own or control vast amounts of California land. Santiago had used Diego to get at Don Alejandro for the purpose of neutralizing the most powerful landowner in California who was the only man who could really stand in his way. Unable to attack Don Alejandro directly, Santiago had seen with clarity where his weakness lay. Again, Zorro was impressed with Bernardo's insights into the mind and character of Santiago. The notes on the map confirmed what Bernardo had said about Santiago and the reasons for the charges of treason against Diego. Weaken Don Alejandro, remove his influence, and the other dons would not stand. With Don Alejandro out of the way, the conspiracy created by the false Zorro would cause many landowners to sell out in fear. With no one to hold them together, the other dons would be picked off one by one. Santiago would sit back and buy all the land for a paltry sum. The Magistrado would become the legal owner of the lands and no one could challenge his right to do with the land what he would.

Zorro studied the map once again. Santiago's plan was very elaborate and complex. What he had done to frame Diego spoke volumes about his meticulous planning and his patient ability. As his landholdings grew, so, too, would the Magistrado's power.

The Eagle's plans had been to seize by force of arms the reins of the government and thereby gain control of California. Santiago's plan was, by far, much more elegant in that, by using conniving patience, he could achieve the same goal. Zorro could not help but be impressed by his adversary's intelligence, which recognized that, by outwardly remaining the honest and loyal Magistrado, a man of impeccable honor, he could achieve his desire for power and wealth with no one the wiser. No one who knew the Magistrado would ever question his integrity. There was absolutely nothing to find at fault within the Magistrado's rule. He was perfectly camouflaged. But Santiago had one fatal flaw in his plan which he, himself, did not recognize for he did not know the unknowable. Santiago had not known who Diego de la Vega was when he had chosen him for the tool of Don Alejandro's destruction. And now, Zorro would take the Magistrado's own words and bring him to account. "Justice will be served," Zorro whispered quietly.

Sliding the papers back into the portfolio, Zorro replaced everything back exactly as he had found it. He blew out the candle and exited Santiago's office. It was time to return home. He could use some sleep as well. Tomorrow, he and Bernardo would go over the plans forming in his mind to deal with Señor Santiago, as well as practice their fencing. Tomorrow night, he would escalate the false Zorro's misdemeanors and see where the chips would fall.


	77. B4 Ch3: Escalation

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **3 – _Escalation_**

All during the following day, Zorro was true to his word. Diego began practicing his fencing again, starting with the absolute basics. From there he would begin building upon them to regain his razor's edge. Bernardo practiced as well, eliciting numerous remarks from Diego. When Bernardo pointed out that Diego was also quite rusty, he was rewarded with a self-depreciating smile by the younger man. Diego conceded that he was really in no position to judge Bernardo, and asked for forgiveness, which was gladly granted. Then, the practice began in earnest.

Diego could tell that his timing was off. The sword no longer felt like an extension of himself, but a long, unwieldy instrument in his hand. He would have to be almost perfect if he was to have any hope of beating Santiago should it come to a duel between the two of them. Santiago had never lost his edge, practicing against all who would come against him, while Diego had made the error of allowing his practice time to be taken away by his work for the Magistrado. At the same time, Diego was still proud of the work he had done in his short time as the Deputy Assistant to the Magistrado. Despite everything, they had done many good things for the people of the district. But he had paid a price for that and now he would have to win it back with hard physical work. He only hoped he would have enough time to regain that which he had lost before the events to come caught up with him.

He looked in upon his father from time to time and was saddened over and over by what he saw. He was more determined than ever that Santiago would be brought to justice before this was all over. His practice became even more intense.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

When night fell again, Zorro set out on Tornado to put the next part of the plan into motion. He rode into Los Angeles and found a spot where he could watch all parts of the plaza while he remained concealed in the shadows. There were a few peons walking about and he saw the sentries manning their posts at the cuartel, but there was no one else about. He waited, watching for his opportunity. After half an hour, he was rewarded by a fortuitous event. The door of the tavern opened and two men stepped out. One was Capitán Hidalgo and the other man was the Magistrado. They were talking as they walked along. This was exactly the scenario Zorro was hoping for, and he thanked his patron saint for providing it to him. He urged Tornado forward.

The two men suddenly turned as they heard the thunderous sounds of a horse racing towards them. A midnight black rider on a midnight black horse rushed at them. Both men froze for a split second, and then began running in opposite directions to get out of the way. In silent anger, Santiago was screaming in his mind, _Uresti! What are you doing?_ He was so angry he could almost spit. How dare the man again defy his orders in this manner? Then he was diving for cover as his hat was shot from his head by Zorro's pistol. The report echoed throughout the plaza. Santiago rolled in the dirt, coming to rest on the ground behind the central well. He was chagrined that he was not wearing his own pistol. All he had was his sword with him. Then he heard the outlaw's voice. He peered over the top of the well.

"I have not forgotten Diego de la Vega!" cried the masked rider as his horse reared and pawed the air. "You will not be so lucky next time, Señor Magistrado!" Then he spun his horse around and galloped away.

Santiago heard another report and knew that Hidalgo had fired his pistol at the fleeing outlaw. He saw that the capitán had missed as the masked rider did not slow down, but disappeared from view around the corner of a building. He found that he was angry at Hidalgo for missing. The sentries at the cuartel fired their muskets, but they were far too late and their shots only chipped plaster from the walls of the buildings. It would serve the blasted man right if he were shot, Santiago thought angrily. But since Uresti had gotten away, he would have to be dealt with speedily, before he could do something even more out of line. Santiago vowed that the next man he chose to be his masked outlaw would not be allowed to drink any beverage other than water.

Getting to his feet and brushing the dirt from his clothes, Santiago was soon surrounded by the townspeople. The peons who had been in the plaza were upset and milling around, telling everyone it had been Zorro who had shot at the Magistrado. "Yes, I tell you it was Zorro!" one of them was saying. "He came because he is still angry about Diego de la Vega! He almost killed the Magistrado!"

Tío, the innkeeper, pushed through the crowd and asked, "Are you all right, Magistrado? Would you like to come back into the tavern? I can offer you some wine." He handed Santiago his hat, now sporting a jagged hole in its crown.

"No, no," said Santiago, deciding to play up the whole affair for now. "I am fine. He missed." He took the hat from Tío and said, looking at the hole, "Well almost." He was gratified to hear the nervous laughter at his little joke. He then looked around. "Capitán Hidalgo? Capitán, where are you?" Seeing Hidalgo coming through the crowd, he said, "There you are, Capitán. Are you all right?"

Hidalgo nodded. "Sí, Magistrado. I am unhurt."

"Good," said Santiago. "Then I want you to personally lead a patrol to find this outlaw. Tonight! He must be captured. I want him brought back here alive."

Hidalgo saluted and said, "Sí, Magistrado!" Then he turned and headed toward the cuartel. He was rather put out at having to go after Santiago's pet Zorro at this late hour, but orders were orders. He shook his head as he tried to imagine what had gotten into Uresti that he was willing to risk his life by shooting at Santiago. Narrowing his eyes, he thought that Uresti had better be as good as the real Zorro was supposed to have been, because he was going to do his best to find the man. Santiago had said that he must be captured alive, but it would not be too hard to imagine that a stray bullet could somehow find its mark and Uresti/Zorro would have to be brought back to the pueblo face down over his saddle. No, it would not be to hard to imagine this at all.

Santiago ordered the people to go home or back into the tavern saying that he was all right. He slapped the remaining dust from his coat and proceeded to his home. Just as he reached the front door, he saw the lancer patrol, headed by Hidalgo, heading out in pursuit of Zorro. He saluted them as they galloped by. Then he entered his house. Gazing at his hat with the hole in it, he threw it across the room. How dare Uresti do such a thing! The man must be drunk again. Only a drunk man would do what he had done in trying to kill the Magistrado. He must have begun to believe that he really was the outlaw, out to revenge Diego de la Vega. It had to be some sort of delusion brought on by too much wine. As he thought about the encounter in the plaza, he realized that Zorro's voice had been somewhat different than normal for Uresti. It had to be another indication of too much wine. He called for his servant.

"Roberto. I want you to go to the house of Señor Lozano and tell him that I must see him in my office at once."

"Sí, Señor Santiago," said Roberto and he hurried off to find Lozano.

It was not long before Lozano was once again present in Santiago's office. "Lozano," said Santiago. "You know that Zorro shot at me tonight?"

"Sí, Magistrado," said Lozano. "It is all over the pueblo. They say he tried to kill you."

"I do not know what Uresti is trying to do in overplaying his part, but it has to stop and stop now," said Santiago in anger. "He has had no orders to do what he did tonight. Hidalgo is out scouring the hills for him at this very moment. I had to do that in order to keep up appearances, but I find myself almost hoping that Hidalgo catches Uresti." He took a deep, calming breath. "But if the Capitán does not find him, Uresti must still be reined in. I alone will decide when and where Zorro will appear, not him. I want you to go to San Pedro and stay with Lolita, his mistress. If necessary, you will use her to control Uresti. Understand this. She is expendable. You will threaten Uresti with his woman if he does not regain control of himself. If you have to, bring her back to Los Angeles with you and keep her locked up somewhere. Do what you must, but get Uresti back in line. Is that clear?"

"Your Excellency, can you not get rid of Uresti and find someone else to be your Zorro?" asked Lozano. "That would simplify things, would it not?"

Santiago nodded. "Sí, it would. But he is quite useful to me. When he is not drunk, he is a man who will do anything I order him to do. Anything. You know that." Lozano nodded. He remembered Gracilia all too well. Santiago continued, "I may still need him before this thing with Don Alejandro is over. What he did tonight has thus far done no damage to my plans. In fact, as I think about it, he may have helped me by keeping the threat of Zorro fresh in the minds of the people." Here Santiago's voice hardened. "But he cannot take matters into his own hands and do things in a drunken stupor. My plans are too carefully made to have him disrupt them when his head is inside a bottle of wine. You will go and explain it to him when he comes back to San Pedro. Go now. Go this instant. You must be in San Pedro before he can get back to his woman."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Lozano. "I will leave at once. But what if he was really trying to kill you, Your Excellency? For some reason of his own?"

"I am not convinced of that," said Santiago. "I still hold the upper hand." But then his eyes narrowed. "However, I will tell you that he is not so valuable to me that he, too, is not expendable. I will trust you to use your own discretion, Lozano. Kill him if you must, but do nothing in haste. Do not exceed your authority."


	78. B4 Ch4: Discord in the Den of Reptiles

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **4 – _Discord in the Den of Reptiles_**

Lozano rode into San Pedro for the second time in two nights. No one seemed to be about. Even the little tavern in the middle of the town was dark and quiet. He judged that it was almost ten o'clock. A little village like this one rolled up early, it would seem. He rode quietly down to the edge of the village, heading toward Lolita's hut. He could see there was someone home as there was a dim light coming from within. Tying his horse at a little distance away, he stole up to the door and gently pulled aside the blanket so that he could see in. Lolita was alone. She was sitting on a little stool in front of a small fragment of a mirror propped up in a niche in the wall. She was humming absently to herself as she slowly brushed her hair. Lozano wondered where Uresti might be. Was he still being pursued by Hidalgo or was he back in San Pedro somewhere? Pushing the blanket aside, he stepped into the hut. Lolita turned to see who had come in, and when she saw Lozano, she stood and backed up a step or two.

"What do you want?" she asked. "You have no right to come in here like this."

"Where is he?" asked Lozano.

"He is not here, as you can see," she replied with a sniff.

"Where is he?" Lozano repeated.

"I do not know," said Lolita, turning away from him.

"You are lying," stated Lozano, stepping closer to her. "Tell me where he is."

"No!" said Lolita. "I tell you I do not know where he is." Lozano grabbed Lolita's wrist, swinging her around to face him and she dropped the hair brush to the floor. "You are hurting me!" she cried out as she struggled against him.

"You will tell me where he is, . . . now!" said Lozano as he tightened his grip on Lolita's wrist. "He rode to Los Angeles, didn't he?" Lolita did not answer him but began to strike him with her free hand, struggling to get away. Lozano finally managed to grab the other wrist and pull her arms behind her as he said, "All right. If you will not tell me, you will tell the Magistrado." He began dragging her toward the door. Still struggling, Lolita cried out and began screaming.

Just as Lozano dragged the woman to the door, the curtain was flung aside and Uresti's dark form filled the opening. Lozano pulled Lolita back with him away from the door, but he did not let go of her. Uresti's eyes narrowed and he said, "You will let her go." He kept his voice low, but there was no mistaking the menace there.

"Not until I have delivered the message from the Magistrado," said Lozano, still holding Lolita. He restrained her with one hand while he reached with the other for the pistol tucked into his banda.

Still blocking the door, Uresti crossed his arms over his chest and said, "What is this message?"

"The Magistrado says that you have disobeyed his orders. You are not to do this again. He is very angry about what happened tonight," said Lozano.

"About what happened tonight?" said a puzzled Uresti. "What madness are you talking about?"

"You know very well what madness," said Lozano. "It is a miracle you did not kill the Magistrado with that shot. If Señor Santiago had not been quick enough, he would now be dead. For reasons I do not understand nor agree with, he is willing to make allowances for your drinking too much wine, but this kind of thing must stop. He will decide when and where Zorro will appear, not you."

"Let me get this straight," said Uresti. "You think I took a shot at the Magistrado tonight?"

"From the Magistrado's own lips," said Lozano. "He told me that you rode through the pueblo and shot at him."

"He was not there," Lolita broke in, defending Uresti. "He was here with me all the time."

"Where was he when I came to your hovel just now, eh?" said Lozano, looking down at her. "He did not get here until after I came." He looked pointedly back at Uresti. "I think that he was in Los Angeles. Isn't that so? See? He still wears the black clothing."

Uresti looked down at himself. "You are wrong, Lozano," he said. "Lolita took my other clothes away. These are all I have to wear."

"Yes! I took his clothes away," Lolita exclaimed. "They were rags. I burned them."

"A convenient story," sneered Lozano, as he shook Lolita. "Quit lying to me!"

Uresti was growing angrier at the treatment of Lolita. "I was not there and I did not shoot at the Magistrado," he roared. " Now let Lolita go!" He took two steps toward Lozano, who stepped back and pulled his pistol. Lolita still struggled in his grasp. Uresti stopped, clenching and unclenching his hands as he scowled at Lozano.

"The Magistrado does not know what he saw?" questioned Lozano sarcastically. He was becoming very angry with Uresti. He continued. "His hat does not have a hole in it from your bullet?" Uresti just scowled. Lozano continued. "I am only here because the Magistrado sent me here. His orders to me were to insure your obedience, to make sure that you did nothing without further orders directly from him." Lozano looked at Lolita. "I think that I will take your woman with me and keep her for you. If you want to see her again, you will make no more mistakes like the one tonight, . . . or else something unpleasant might happen to her. Do you understand?"

"You will let Lolita go," Uresti growled low in his throat. "Now."

"No!" said Lozano, and he began shoving Lolita around the perimeter of the room while continuing to point his pistol at Uresti. "She will go with me." He was angling to get to the door with the woman and leave. "I told the Magistrado that he should get another Zorro," he said, as he continued to move. "I told him that you could not be trusted, but he said to take your woman and that would keep you in line. I obey my orders even if you do not."

Uresti gave ground and moved further away from the door as he studied Lozano. Then his eyes narrowed again as a thought occurred to him. "Ah, I see how it is. You are jealous of my success. You want to get rid of me, don't you? You are afraid that I will one day take your place with the Magistrado." Pointing at Lozano with his finger, he said, "I think that it was _you_ who dressed up as the outlaw and it was _you_ who took the shot at the Magistrado. You were hoping to see me blamed and in disfavor with the Magistrado, were you not? Maybe you are wanting to kill me?"

"You are drunk or mad," said Lozano flatly. "Or both."

"At the moment, I am neither," said Uresti. "But I see now that the Magistrado did not do as you expected. He still needs me doesn't he?" Lozano said nothing. Uresti laughed deep in his throat. "He ordered you to come here to whip me back into line, but you really want a reason to kill me don't you? You are afraid of me, Lozano. Afraid of competition for the Magistrado's favor." He laughed with a sneer. "That is a sign of weakness, Lozano. I am not the weak one here. And now I see you want to hide behind my woman to protect yourself. I do not believe the Magistrado told you to take her from me."

"I do not care what you believe," said Lozano. "I am taking her to Los Angeles and you will stay here until you receive further orders from Señor Santiago. Make no move, or I will be forced to shoot." He started backing out of the hut with Lolita in tow.

"Let her go!" Uresti roared as he launched himself at Lozano. He was not going to let Lozano take Lolita with him. At the same time, Lolita shoved herself into Lozano, causing him to discharge his pistol wildly into the air. Uresti crashed into Lozano, sending all three of them sprawling onto the dirt floor of the hut. Lolita scrambled around and finally managed to get free, but Uresti and Lozano continued to wrestle and fight, rolling back and forth. Uresti was much taller and much more stoutly built than Lozano. Lozano was an experienced fighter, but he was ultimately no match for the heavier man in a contest of strength. Uresti's fists found their mark time and again, connecting with Lozano's jaw or burying themselves in his stomach, while he was not able to inflict much damage on Uresti. Uresti picked up Lozano and punched him in the face, causing him to land in a heap beside the small stool upon which Lolita had been sitting when he first saw her tonight. Grabbing the stool by one leg, Lozano swung it with all of his strength and hit Uresti on the side of the head as the man charged him, felling the larger man like a tree. Gasping and holding his stomach, Lozano staggered to his feet. He could not stand up straight, but remained bent over. He glanced at Uresti lying on the dirt, but the man was apparently unconscious. Another glance showed Lolita with a knife in her hand. She had come to stand protectively over Uresti, brandishing the knife at Lozano.

It was all Lozano could do to stay upright, swaying on his feet. Lolita saw his weakness and charged at him with the knife. Lozano fell backward through the curtain to land in the dirt outside the hovel. With a groan, he rolled to his feet and fell to his knees again. Lolita was still coming after him with the knife. He could not fight her. He could only think of getting away. On his knees and one hand, he scrambled away from her, holding his stomach with the other hand. Lolita soon gave up the chase and ran back inside the hovel. She was more interested in Uresti than in Lozano at the moment. Lozano took the opportunity to crawl over to his horse. Gasping, he pulled himself up by grabbing the stirrup and then the saddle horn. Somehow he managed to climb up into the saddle, though he could barely keep from falling off again. He urged his horse on, wanting only to get away from San Pedro and back to Los Angeles.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Tío was just getting ready to go to bed. He put away the last glass and picked up his candleholder. Business was bad these days, but tonight there had been a few vaqueros who had come in for wine. They had talked of nothing but the attempt on the Magistrado's life and the trial of Diego de la Vega. Though Tío was always eager to hear any new gossip, even he was growing weary of the topic by now. But the vaqueros had bought enough wine that he was somewhat mollified. The men had left a few minutes before eleven o'clock and now everything was very quiet. Stifling a yawn, he started for the stairs.

He stopped when he heard a strange thumping noise coming from the front door of the tavern. Curious to see what would make such a sound, he walked over and opened the door slowly. Holding the candle up, he looked out in the plaza to see nothing in the darkness, but then he jumped back as someone or something grabbed at his foot. Holding the candle lower, he saw a man slumped across the threshold of the tavern's door. Lower still, and he could see that it was the face of Señor Lozano in the dim circle of candlelight. Kneeling, he placed the candle holder on the floor and supported Lozano's head and shoulders. "Señor!" he cried. "Señor Lozano, what is wrong?"

"Magistrado," gasped Lozano. "I must speak with the Magistrado, . . . ." Then he blacked out.

Over his shoulder, Tío cried out with a loud voice, "Maria! Maria! Come quickly!"

From the back room where she had a small cot, Maria ran into the tavern. "Sí, Señor? What is it? What is wrong?"

"Go and fetch the doctor, Maria!" said Tío. "Then go and tell the Magistrado that Señor Lozano is hurt and wishes to speak to him. Go quickly now!"

"Sí, Señor," said Maria. With eyes widened in fear, Maria stepped over the fallen man and ran out into the dark plaza.

Tío took Lozano by the shoulders of his jacket and pulled him the rest of the way into the tavern and shut the door. He took a tablecloth and folded it, placing it beneath Lozano's head. He lit more candles and placed them on the tables nearby. He could see that the man had taken a beating of some sort, one which had left his face swollen, with marks that were turning black and blue. He was still unconscious. Anxiously, Tío went to the door of the tavern to look for the doctor. He was glad to see the physician making his way across the plaza from his home. It was too dark to see if Maria had found the Magistrado.

"Doctor, come in," he said as Avila neared. He pointed to Lozano lying on the floor as they both entered the tavern.

"What has happened?" asked Avila, as he knelt beside the unconscious man.

"I do not know," said Tío. "He was like this when I found him. He only had breath enough to ask for the Magistrado before he passed out."

As the doctor worked on Lozano, the tavern door opened again and the Magistrado stepped in, followed meekly by Maria. Santiago was hastily dressed, but he had not failed to pick up his ever-present sword. Taking in the scene, he addressed the doctor. "How is he, Doctor Avila?"

Avila finished moving Lozano's arms and legs and said, "Nothing seems to be broken, Your Excellency, but he has taken a beating by someone. He is unconscious at the moment, but I do not think his life is in danger."

"Can he be moved?" asked Santiago.

"Sí, he can be moved, if you are careful," said Avila.

"Innkeeper, go to the cuartel and inform Sergeant Garcia that I want him and two lancers at once," Santiago ordered. "I will take Señor Lozano to my own home where he can be properly cared for."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Tío, who took off in a trot toward the cuartel.

"Mmmpphh, . . . ." said Lozano, seeming to rouse a bit from his stupor. He began to rock his head back and forth.

Doctor Avila held his head still and said, "Señor Lozano? Can you hear me? This is Doctor Avila. You must lie still. That's it. Now just lie there quietly. Good." Lozano's movements subsided and he blinked a few times, then tried to focus his eyes.

"Magistrado?" he questioned.

Kneeling near Lozano, Santiago said, "Sí, Señor Lozano. I am here. Do not talk. You must rest now."

"I must, . . . ."

"Not now," ordered Santiago. "Whatever you have to say will wait." This seemed to penetrate Lozano's fog and he nodded before blanking out again. This satisfied Santiago. He had been afraid that Lozano might say something compromising in front of the doctor while in this condition. He wondered what could have happened to Lozano. Had he been ambushed by bandits on his way back from San Pedro?

Sergeant Garcia and his men came in then. Garcia saluted and said, "You sent for me, Your Excellency?"

"Yes, Sergeant. I want your men to take Señor Lozano to my house at once."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Garcia. He looked closely at the unconscious man and said, "What has happened to Señor Lozano?"

"We do not know, Sergeant," said Santiago. "Right now, all I want to do is get him to my home where he may be cared for. Quickly now."

"Sí, Magistrado!" said Garcia. He directed his men and soon they were carrying Lozano between them. Everyone from the tavern followed them over to Santiago's house. "Where should we put him?" asked Garcia when they had entered the house.

"In this room. Over here," said Santiago, indicating the room which had once been Gracilia's bedroom. The lancers carried Lozano into the room and placed him on the bed. Santiago lit a candle on the little table beside the bed.

Doctor Avila noted that all of the room's furnishings had been changed. Almost nothing remained of the items which had been in the room when Señora Gracilia had been its dreary occupant. It was as though Señor Santiago had made a conscious effort to erase all memories of his dearly departed wife. He set those thoughts aside as he went over to make another examination of the patient.

Seeing all the people in his house, Santiago said, "Thank you all for your concern. Sergeant, you and your men may return to the cuartel now. When Capitán Hidalgo returns from his patrol you will tell him I wish him to come to me at once." Garcia saluted to acknowledge his orders. Santiago continued. "The rest of you may go as well. The doctor and I will take care of Señor Lozano." Everyone took one last look at Lozano and then filed from the room. Santiago motioned to his man servant, who had come to see what all the commotion was about, to see them out. Then Santiago returned to the bedside to see what report the doctor would have now.

"Well?" he said.

"I do not know, Your Excellency," said Avila. "He might be out like this for quite a while, or he might come to any moment. It is difficult to tell."

"But he is not in any immediate danger?"

"No, I would say not," said Avila.

"Then why don't you go back home and resume your interrupted sleep, while I and my servant watch over Señor Lozano." Seeing the hesitation in Avila's eyes, he added, "I have had some experience in caring for the sick, Doctor. Do not worry."

Avila smiled sadly and nodded. He picked up his bag. "You will call me if anything is wrong?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, Doctor," said Santiago, as he ushered the doctor out of the room. "Rest assured that you will be the first to know." He pointed to his servant to let the doctor out. He was anxious to find out from Lozano just what had happened and he did not want the doctor for an audience. He dismissed his servant, and closing the door, went over to Lozano's bedside.

"Lozano," he said, lightly tapping the man on the side of his face to try and rouse him. "Lozano, wake up." He tapped a little harder. "Wake up."

"Mmmphh," said Lozano, as he tried to focus his eyes. "Where am I?"

"This is Santiago. You are in my house," said Santiago. "What happened to you?"

"Magistrado? Is that you?" asked Lozano, blinking his eyes.

"Sí," said Santiago. "Tell me! What happened?"

Lozano tried to raise himself up on his pillows and Santiago leaned over to help him. Carefully, Lozano felt of his face and winced at the pain. He cleared his throat and said hoarsely, "Uresti tried to kill me, Magistrado." Lozano was finished with Uresti now. He would make sure that Santiago would order the man's death. He ached all over and what did not ache, hurt.

Santiago was not entirely surprised by the answer to his question. He was interrupted however, by a knock at the door. "Yes? What is it?" he said.

"Capitán Hidalgo reporting," came the response from the other side of the door.

"Come in, Capitán," said Santiago turning back to Lozano.

Hidalgo opened the door and took in Lozano's physical state at a glance. He closed the door again and came to stand silently on the opposite side of the bed from Santiago.

Outside, in the darkness, a silent shadow drew near the window. The shadow man removed his hat and leaned as near to the glass as possible. Although he could not open the window for fear of being discovered, he could just make out what was being said by almost pressing his ear against the glass. He listened intently.

"Tell me what happened," said Santiago to Lozano, who was in the bed.

Haltingly, Lozano told his story. When he was through, Santiago was convinced that Uresti had beaten Lozano for delivering Santiago's orders. Orders which Uresti did not like. According to Lozano, Uresti had been drinking, but that was no longer a valid excuse. He was becoming arrogant and definitely belligerent, wanting to do things his own way. Santiago could not allow that. His plans were too carefully made to have an operative running around out of control. It would seem that the threat of hanging for being a minion of the Eagle had lost its effectiveness with the man. He would have to be eliminated. Eliminated before he took it into his head to try again to kill the Magistrado. He had already tried to kill Lozano tonight and who was to say that he had not been trying to kill Santiago when he rode through the town earlier this night? Lozano swore that he had arrived at San Pedro before Uresti and that when he had appeared, he was still wearing the black shirt and pants of the Zorro costume. There was no mistaking that he had indeed been riding as the masked outlaw tonight even though he denied it. Santiago looked down at Lozano who was fighting to stay conscious. Lozano had never lied to him since he had known the man. He knew better than that. Santiago's dark eyes held Lozano's, trying to ascertain whether this was still true. Lozano met his gaze and Santiago was convinced. He turned to Hidalgo who had heard everything.

"Capitán," said Santiago. "You will go at once to San Pedro and find Uresti. You will find him and kill him. Use any excuse you wish. You are an adjunct of my office. Make up any charges against him that you wish. He is a wanted criminal. A murderer. A former agent of the Eagle. I don't care. I will support you, whatever the reasons you give for killing him. I just want him dead."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Hidalgo. "I will take some of my men and . . . ."

He was interrupted as Santiago said, "No! You will go alone. At this moment, I trust only you and Lozano here. I want no one else involved in this. I have too much at stake to involve those I cannot trust. You can do the job if you do not underestimate what Uresti is capable of doing. Take no chances with him. Just kill him quickly."

Lozano raised his head and spoke. "Go to his woman's mud hut near the far edge of town. It is the one with the faded green blanket hanging over the doorway. If he is not there, she will know where he is." He let his head fall back on the pillow.

"Remember Capitán, I reward those who perform well," said Santiago. "Señor Lozano can attest to this." Lozano nodded.

"Sí, Magistrado," said Hidalgo. "I will get a fresh horse and set out at once. Sergeant Garcia will be placed in charge of the cuartel until my return."

Lozano watched as Santiago walked Hidalgo to the door. He closed his eyes in relief. He had succeeded and now Uresti was as good as dead. Hidalgo would take care of Uresti and he would pay with his life for what he had done. Lozano felt rather proud of himself that he had been able to pull this off. Coloring the truth around Santiago was a dangerous thing. But he had done it. He would have his revenge. However, it seemed that his thoughts became less clear the longer he lay there. He thought he heard Santiago re-enter the room, but he did not have the strength to open his eyes again. He drifted off into silent oblivion.

Santiago came to stand by the bed one more time, looking down on his ailing operative. He wondered how Lozano had actually managed to survive a physical attack by Uresti. Uresti was quite a strong and agile man. Santiago cocked his head to one side. How much of Lozano's story had actually been true, he wondered. But then again, Lozano had been quite convincing as he related his story. "You had better be telling me the truth," he said to the unconscious man under his breath.

Turning, he walked out of the room and over to the fireplace in the sala. The fire there had long burned out. Roberto had lit a few candles earlier and there was sufficient light in the room with which to see. _Blast Uresti anyway,_ thought Santiago, as he pounded his fist on the mantelpiece. _I was not through with him yet._ What possessed the man to lose control of himself like that? He had always been difficult, but not impossibly so. He thought of Lolita. It must be the woman called Lolita. Uresti had always been infatuated with her. With his drinking and with the woman speaking softly in his ear, he must have decided that he did not need to fear the Magistrado. But why carry on the charade of being Zorro and continue the sham of seeking revenge on behalf of Diego de la Vega? That part did not make any sense. If he had wanted the Magistrado dead, there were many other ways to accomplish that. Ways which did not involve the risk of being shot by the soldiers of the cuartel. Santiago shook his head. "He must have been drunk out of his mind," he muttered. Well, that was no longer going to be a problem. Hidalgo would eliminate Uresti and there would be an end to it. Santiago hoped that Hidalgo was astute enough to realize that Lolita would have to be eliminated as well. She knew entirely too much. He pursed his lips and nodded to himself. Hidalgo would know what to do.

Santiago began to pace in front of the fireplace as he continued to think. He would have to re-examine his plans and decide what to do now that he would not have his Zorro to work with anymore. On the surface, he did not see anything which he could not resolve. Don Alejandro was deep in the throes of grief and pity. Another appearance by Zorro could wait until the old man was relieved of his property. Zorro was not needed to force the old man's hand. Sorrow and depression would do that for him, just as he had known all along. Lozano could keep the rumors of Zorro gathering his armies in the distant hills alive with his talent of whispering in the proper ears. Then, if he should be needed, another man could be selected to don the black clothing and ride as the masked outlaw to strike fear in the hearts of those in the district. He had already decided that Don Alfredo would be his next target. Don Alfredo had already been attacked by the masked rider when his son was kidnaped, he would not risk his family again. Yes, it would take a few adjustments to get along without Uresti, but it could be done. Still, Santiago directed his anger at Uresti for disturbing his carefully laid plans. Why couldn't they all just do as he ordered?

"Roberto!" he called out.

"Sí, Señor Santiago," said Roberto, coming down the hallway.

"You will stay with Señor Lozano tonight and see to his needs. I am going to bed. Notify me at once if he should wake and ask for me."

Roberto bowed. "Sí, Señor Santiago. I will come to you at once."

With one last glance at the still unconscious Lozano, Santiago loosened his jacket and walked toward his own bedroom.


	79. B4 Ch5: Death in the Night

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **5 – _Death in the Night_**

Zorro watched from the shadows as Hidalgo left the cuartel alone. He could only be going one place. The capitan was going to find Uresti and kill him on the orders of the Magistrado. What the masked man had heard through the window confirmed this. He would follow the Capitán and see just what transpired. Uresti must be stopped, and if one of Santiago's own men did the deed, justice of the poetic kind would be served, would it not? Zorro smiled grimly as he contemplated the thought. As much as he wanted to be the one to take care of Uresti personally, it would be better for his plans to discommode the Magistrado if he continued to sow confusion and distrust among Santiago's own operatives. Zorro mounted Tornado and followed Hidalgo at a distance. He would simply monitor the coming events and not interfere unless circumstances warranted.

Hidalgo shook his head to himself as he covered the miles to San Pedro. It was certain that Lozano had bungled his assignment to bring Uresti back in line. And now it was up to Hidalgo to clean up the mess. Killing Uresti was the only sensible thing to do. Taking a shot at the Magistrado, whether as a result of a drunken delusion or as some sort of deliberate act could not be tolerated. Hidalgo had no doubt but that it was Uresti who had taken that shot at the Magistrado. The reason for the attack was not important. In an operation such as this, if the Magistrado could not be sure of you, you were dead. He did not expect your loyalty, but he did expect your obedience. And Uresti had been warned once before to wait for orders. That he did not meant that he was a liability. A dangerous liability.

Hidalgo did not have a problem being ordered to kill Uresti. He did not know the man, having only seen him when he was clothed as the masked outlaw. Uresti had made an attempt on the Magistrado's life and that was reason enough to kill the man, not to mention the attack on Lozano. However, as Hidalgo rode along, he realized that he had a personal reason for wanting to kill Uresti. The image of the tiny, lifeless form of Señora Gracilia flashed across his thoughts and he ground his teeth. He wanted to kill the man who had been able to take the life of a defenseless woman so coldly. He could not kill the Magistrado who had orchestrated the whole thing, but he could kill Uresti. With a grim satisfaction, Hidalgo dug his heels into the sides of his horse and urged him onward.

It was in the wee hours of the morning when he pulled into San Pedro. The village seemed like a ghost town to him. There were no lights anywhere and the moon was not up. Riding slowly, he circled through the town, looking for a mud hut with a green blanket in the doorway. In the darkness, all colors were gone. There were only dim shapes and shades of grey. How was he supposed to find a green blanket in the dark, he wondered. At the far end of the town, he stepped down from his horse. The hut in front of him had a blanket over the doorway. It was the only one in the area like that. The rest had wooden doors. He went to it and then pulled out a match. Striking the match, he held it up so that he could see the color of the blanket. It was a faded green. This must be the right one. He blew out the match.

Standing to one side of the door so as to be out of the line of fire in case things went wrong, he softly called, "Señorita Lolita, I must speak with you." He did not want to draw attention to himself from the other huts in the area. "Señorita? Are you there?" He did not ask for Uresti yet. First find out if the woman was there.

No one came to the door, but he thought he could hear someone moving around inside. "Señorita? Please? I come from the Magistrado. He has sent me here to clear things up. There has been a mistake. I need to speak to you." He tried to make himself sound as conciliatory as possible. He did not want to frighten her if she was there. He waited and then said, "Señorita?"

The curtains moved almost imperceptibly and from behind them, a woman's voice said, "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Señorita Lolita?" questioned Hidalgo.

"Yes," the woman answered.

"May I come in?" he asked. "I am Capitán Hidalgo. The Magistrado has sent me to straighten out the mess left behind by Señor Lozano."

This statement seemed to satisfy the woman for she said, "Come in."

Hidalgo pushed the blanket aside and took one step into the pitch darkness of the hut with his hand on his pistol. He kept the wall of the hut at his back. "Señorita? Do you have a candle? It would be better if I could see you as we speak," he said. _And I will be able to see if Uresti is in here,_ he thought to himself.

Lolita struck a match and lit a candle. Hidalgo quickly looked around the hut and saw that they were alone. His grip on the pistol relaxed. Then Hidalgo looked at the woman and drew in his breath sharply. In the dim light of the candle, this woman looked for all the world like his beloved Maria, God rest her soul. He stared at her for a long moment, long enough so that Lolita blushed and dropped her eyes. Coming to himself, Hidalgo stammered, "Forgive me for staring, please. It's just that you remind me so much of my . . . of someone else I knew long ago. The resemblance is remarkable."

Lolita looked at him again. Her eyes were soft. "You said you came from the Magistrado?" she asked.

"Yes," said Hidalgo getting back to business though he could hardly keep from staring at Lolita. "When Señor Lozano returned to Los Angeles and the Magistrado found out what a mess he had made of things, he sent me here to set things straight. Apparently there has been a misunderstanding. I have new orders for Señor Uresti from the Magistrado which I must deliver personally. Can you tell me where he is?"

"I don't know, Capitán," said Lolita, not meeting his eyes. "He went away. I don't know where."

Hidalgo could tell that she was covering for Uresti. She knew where he was all right. He just needed to convince her that he was not going to hurt her lover. Not yet anyway. "Understand, Señorita," he said. "I am just following my orders. Señor Santiago has a big job for Señor Uresti to do and I must find him at once. You must tell me where he is." He pulled out several coins from his pouch. "Here," he tossed them to her. "Please tell me where to find Señor Uresti." To win her over, he kept his tone as soft as possible. He was rewarded for his efforts.

"He is in the hills," she said at last, when he had tossed another coin to her. "I cannot tell you where. I must take you there. Without me, he would kill you before you could say a word. He thinks the Magistrado wants to kill him now."

"No, Señorita," said Hidalgo. "That is why I am here. I want to assure Señor Uresti that his life is in no danger from the Magistrado. Señor Lozano will pay for his mistake tonight. He should not have made such wild accusations."

Lolita nodded. "I tried to tell Señor Lozano that he was with me all the time," she said. "But he would not believe me. Do you believe me?" She peered up at him.

Hidalgo forced himself not to make comparisons with his Maria as he said, "Of course, I do, Señorita. Now, please. I have to deliver my message to Señor Uresti and be on my way back to Los Angeles as soon as possible. Will you take me to him?"

"Sí, I will take you," she said. She picked up a shawl and placed it about her shoulders and then blew out the candle. "Go and get your horse, Capitán," she said. "I will meet you in front of the tavern. Then we will go."

Hidalgo did not like to let Lolita out of his sight, but neither did he wish to make her suspicious. He would have to trust her. He mounted his horse and rode slowly back through the town toward the tavern. He thought again how much Lolita looked like his beloved Maria. The memories of his wife came flooding back with almost the same intensity as when he had brought back the body of Señora Gracilia to the church in Los Angeles. How could the world be so cruel as to place another woman in his path who looked so much like his beloved? Grimly, he tried to get hold of himself. Lolita was not Maria and he had a job to do. As a matter of fact, as he thought about it, Lolita could be a problem. She knew too much. She knew that the Magistrado was up to something even if she did not know the particulars. She knew that Uresti was riding as Zorro on the Magistrado's orders. And who knew what else Uresti might have told her when he was drinking too much? Lolita was a liability.

He looked at her with new eyes when she rode up to him on a mule. She had no saddle, or even a blanket. The bridle was makeshift and worn. He wondered briefly if she had stolen it from someone. At the moment, that was not important.

"This way, Capitán," she said and then began riding away without looking to see if he was following. Hidalgo fell in behind her and soon they were out of the village and riding north along the road. After a few miles, Lolita turned her mule off the road and headed into the brush. The land turned more and more rugged and Hidalgo's horse stumbled on the loose rocks and stones several times. Lolita led him along the bottom of a ravine for a while and then pulled up beside a pile of boulders as she waited for him to come along side of her. "You will wait here, Capitán," she said. "I must go alone from here. When I know it is safe for you to come, I will return to get you."

"Sí, I will wait," said Hidalgo, as he dismounted. Lolita kicked her mule and started up the ravine. She was soon lost in the gloom. Hidalgo waited. He looked up at the stars and decided that it was only a couple of hours before dawn. He wanted to end this quickly and get back to Los Angeles. He pulled both of his pistols from his belt and checked their priming and made sure that his sword was loosened in its scabbard. He even pulled and tested the edge of his knife with his thumb before putting it back in its sheath. He was prepared.

After ten minutes or so, he heard the sound of a four-footed animal coming back along the ravine. He ducked behind a boulder and waited. It was Lolita.

"Capitán?" she called out in a low voice. "Capitán are you here?"

Hidalgo stepped out from behind the boulder and said, "Here I am."

"Come," she said. "He will see you now. But do not do anything foolish. Keep your hands where he can see them at all times."

"Sí, Señorita," said Hidalgo, remounting his own horse. He followed Lolita's mule through the ravine, which had several sharp twists and turns, making it perfect for one man to defend against attack. Uresti had chosen his hideout well. Hidalgo was sure that a company of lancers would have had a difficult time taking Uresti's camp by assault. That is why he was pleased that he had used guile instead.

When they had negotiated the turns, Lolita pulled up and said, "We will leave the animals here and go the rest of the way on foot. Be careful, Capitán. He is watching."

Hidalgo looked around in the dark at the brush and boulders and the steep walls of the ravine and decided that it was useless to look for Uresti. There were too many places where the man could be hiding. He would just wait until he was face to face with the man and then make his move.

They walked into an area sheltered by a rock overhang. A small campfire was burning, giving off its dim light to the scene. To the left, a black horse was grazing on a small patch of grass while its saddle and blankets were spread out near the fire in order to make a bed. To the right, Hidalgo could see nothing, but he had the impression that the land fell away sharply. Perhaps the ravine had cut more deeply through there than it had along the trail they had followed to get to this place. Hidalgo kept his hands away from his pistol, though he felt the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He knew Uresti was somewhere nearby, most likely with a pistol aimed in his direction. He must be very careful.

"Stop right there," said a gravelly voice from behind him in the darkness. "You will keep your hands away from your weapons."

Hidalgo turned slowly to see Uresti coming out of the bushes and into the circle of light cast by the small fire. He was wearing the black shirt, pants and boots of the Zorro costume and he very nearly blended into the darkness. "Señor," Hidalgo said. "You have nothing to fear from me. Please. Lower your weapon. I am here on behalf of the Magistrado to make amends for Señor Lozano's poor behavior. There was a misunderstanding. If you will permit me?" Slowly he moved his hand toward his jacket.

"Stop. What are you doing?" said Uresti, brandishing his pistol.

"It is wise to be cautious, Señor," said Hidalgo, pausing. "But I have something here in my pocket which will help to smooth ruffled feathers." He continued to move his hand slowly. "It makes a pleasant sound." He held Uresti's eyes as he reached into his jacket and removed a small leather pouch. He shook it and the coins inside jingled. He was amused to see the look that found its way to Uresti's face. "You see, Señor? The Magistrado wants you to have this and to forget the earlier unpleasantness. You will no longer work with Lozano. I am now your contact. Take this and then let me tell you about your next assignment." Hidalgo gathered himself. He could see that, although cautious, Uresti was buying his story and that he wanted the money. Smiling, he tossed the pouch toward Uresti, making him reach to catch it. While Uresti was distracted and off balance, Hidalgo pulled his pistol smoothly and brought it to bear upon Uresti. However, before he could pull the trigger, he was staggered by Lolita as she leaped upon him. The pistol discharged into the air and Uresti dove for the cover of the brush. Hidalgo cursed as he dropped his useless pistol and grabbed Lolita, using her as a shield. He pulled his other pistol and held it to Lolita's head. He cursed himself again for not taking the woman into account. He was a fool.

"So this is how the Magistrado wanted to reward me?" said Uresti from the shadowy darkness. "Since you are here, I trust that Lozano is dead? He too, tried to kill me. But he failed. So will you."

"Uresti!" called Hidalgo. "I have your woman. I will kill her if you do not drop your weapons and come out where I can see you." He tightened his grip on the struggling woman and pressed the end of the pistol barrel to her head. "Be still!" he hissed at her. She subsided.

Uresti walked back into the light holding out his pistol by the barrel. When he was a few paces away, Hidalgo said, "That is close enough. Throw your weapon down." Uresti looked at Hidalgo a moment and then at the face of his beloved Lolita. He gave a small nod. He made as if to toss the weapon to the ground and then quickly pitched it right into Lolita's hands. She grabbed it and took it by the handle, pointing it towards Hidalgo's head as best as she could from her awkward position.

"Ah, Capitán," said Uresti, with a smile. "You have a pretty problem there. If you shoot me, my little one there will shoot you. If you shoot her, I will be upon you before you can defend yourself and I will kill you. Either way you are dead." Uresti laughed at Hidalgo's predicament.

Hidalgo growled in his throat, his anger rising to a torrent. He had one chance. Taking Lolita by the arm, he flung her away from him right into Uresti's arms. Uresti caught her and tried to keep them both from falling to the ground. Hidalgo brought his pistol to bear upon them and prepared to pull the trigger. He hesitated for a split second as he sighted down the pistol at . . . Maria. Maria, his beloved. The soft light from the fire illuminating the woman's features made it seem as if he were going to shoot his own wife. "Maria," he whispered. Then there was the report of a pistol shot which echoed from the walls of the ravine. "Oomph," Hidalgo grunted as he dropped his pistol and clutched at his mid-section. His pistol discharged harmlessly as it hit the ground. He fell face down on the earth. His lips moved as he tried to whisper the name of his wife one last time, but there was no sound. There was only a terrible silence.

Lolita froze with the spent pistol in her hands as Uresti held her in front of him. Then she let it fall. Uresti walked over to Hidalgo and turned him over. "He is dead," he told Lolita. He began checking Hidalgo's pockets for anything of value. Over his shoulder, he said, "See? It is as I told you it would be. I should not have listened to you. He might have killed me."

"He would have killed you if I hadn't stopped him," said Lolita. "Do you not wish to thank me for that?"

"Thank you for almost getting me killed?" said Uresti, as he continued to check for valuables.

Lolita stared at Uresti for a moment and then walked over to the fire and sat down on the saddle. "What was I supposed to do?" she asked. "He came from the Magistrado."

"You should not have brought him here," said Uresti, standing. "Now that he is dead, I cannot stay here. The Magistrado will stop at nothing to have me killed. I will have to leave California."

"You will take me with you?" questioned Lolita. "He knows about me too."

"I will send for you when I get to Mexico," said Uresti. "You will just slow me down now. I have to travel fast. The Magistrado will not bother with you. You are not important."

"Oooh," said Lolita, starting to cry. "I am not important? You were willing to kill Lozano to keep him from taking me," she said. "What has changed?"

Uresti pointed to Hidalgo. "That."

Lolita looked at the body of Hidalgo lying in the dirt, his jacket and shirt in disarray from Uresti's pawing, the red bloom of death spreading over his mid-section. She shook her head. What was the difference between killing Lozano and killing Hidalgo, she wondered. She sniffed. "I will go back and pack my things," she said. "I will not be long. You will wait for me?"

Uresti looked at her. He did love her, or at least he thought he did. "Sí, I will wait," he said. Lolita jumped up and ran to hug him. He held her in his arms and said, "I will wait until sunrise. If you are not here by then, I will have to leave. Do you understand?" Lolita nodded. "Then you had better hurry. Now go." He pulled Lolita close to him and kissed her. Wiping away the last of her tears, Lolita turned and ran back to her mule. In moments, she was gone. Uresti looked after her for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders.


	80. B4 Ch6: The Fox Twice Dead

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **6 – _The Fox Twice Dead_**

From Zorro's vantage point higher in the rocks, he had seen and heard everything. He had silently followed Hidalgo and the woman to this spot and had climbed up where he could watch the proceedings. He could see the lifeless body of Hidalgo lying on the ground just within the edge of the light from the fire. For a few moments, he had been fearful that the woman was going to be killed and he chastised himself that he had not been in a better position to do something about it. But she was still alive and Hidalgo was not. He listened to Uresti and Lolita as they talked and then watched her ride away. He looked again at Uresti. His eyes narrowed. No, Uresti was not going to go to Mexico. He was not going anywhere. Not if Zorro could help it. He began to climb down, making his way toward the camp.

Zorro peered around the rocks at the edge of the camp. He could clearly see his doppelganger. The man was seated on the ground, leaning back against his saddle as he pulled a long drink from the wine bottle he held. Zorro could feel the anger rising within him as he contemplated the fact that this was the man, who in his name, had pillaged and killed. He was aware that another man pulled the strings, but this man was the one who carried out the orders. It was time for the false Zorro's ride to come to an end.

Zorro stepped out of the darkness and into the edges of the light. "Buenas noches, Señor Imposter," he greeted the other.

Uresti's head snapped around as he looked in Zorro's direction. In a flash, he grabbed his pistol, which he had already reloaded, in order to shoot the intruder. He saw nothing but a black shadow and a flashing smile in the light from his campfire, but he did not need more than that to find his target. Mere seconds later, he was nursing a throbbing hand. The man of shadows had flicked out with his whip, and had neatly sent the pistol flying off into the darkness, discharging it harmlessly in the process. "Who are you?" Uresti demanded of the formless intruder.

"You do not know?" asked Zorro, sounding quite amazed. "Here, let me come more fully into the light. There, can you see more clearly now?"

Uresti squinted at the figure. The man was dressed all in black just as he was. He wore a mask and a cape just as he did when he rode for the Magistrado. Then he knew. "You must be the real Zorro," he said in his gravelly voice.

"I am flattered that you recognized me, Señor Imposter. Now, if you . . ." Zorro was not able to complete his sentence because he was forced to duck the bottle thrown at him by Uresti. The bottle smashed against the rock at his back in a shower of glass. When he turned again to face Uresti, he saw that the larger man had gained his feet and had drawn his sword. This pleased Zorro. He found that he was eager to vanquish the man who had been destroying the image of the real Zorro; who had done such vile things in his name. With a smile, he whipped out his own sword, dropping the whip at his feet. "Ah, so you wish to try your skills against me, Señor Imposter? I am at your service." He saluted Uresti with his sword. It would be his pleasure to defeat this man. He did not let it enter his mind that he was still rusty from his lack of practice. He would defeat Uresti.

Uresti growled and charged. It was soon apparent that he was not a well-trained swordsman. He relied mainly upon his enormous strength to batter down his opponent's defenses. Zorro realized this almost immediately. The first few blows that he absorbed with his blade left his arm tingling. He would have to adjust his form. He was lighter than Uresti and his reach was slightly longer than the larger man's. Zorro adopted a new tactic. He circled Uresti and darted in and out as he cut in and under the imposter's defenses. Uresti was quick, but not quick enough.

Uresti found himself in trouble trying to defend against the real Zorro's new tactic and had to backpedal in order to keep from being cut. This did not suit him at all. He was used to overpowering his opponents. He had never seen this man before and did not care if he ever saw him again. Right now, he just wanted the man dead. He would have to forget this dueling nonsense and do something else.

Zorro kept dancing in and out, engaging Uresti and then circling away. He was confident that he could take him soon. He was not prepared for what happened next. His sword met Uresti's near the tip and the blades slid along each other, hissing and ringing, until they were locked at the hilt. The two men strained to push the other back. Suddenly, Uresti reached out with his left hand and grabbed Zorro by the cape, just at the shoulder. With a giant heave, he slung Zorro around, not letting go of the cape. He slammed Zorro back into the large rock and then used his knee to crash into Zorro's sword arm, pinning it to the rock, causing the masked man to drop his sword from numbed fingers. Zorro gasped at the pain in his arm. By instinct he ducked, avoiding Uresti's sword hilt which would have smashed into his face. The clang of metal echoed in his ears as Uresti's blow struck the rock right by his head. Clawing at the cord ties of the cape, he pulled. They parted and he slipped out of his cape, leaving it in the imposter's hand as he staggered to the opposite side of the fire before he was able to catch his balance.

Uresti found himself holding an empty cape and turned to look for his foe. Seeing Zorro on the other side of the fire, nursing his right arm, he flung the cape aside and advanced. He had the sword and Zorro did not. Now he could finish the man easily and go back to his drink.

Zorro looked around. His sword was out of reach behind Uresti, but his whip, . . . his whip was just on the other side of the fire, a few steps in front of his opponent. It would be a near thing. Swiftly, Zorro threw himself at the whip, coming down low and rolling on the ground once to get away from the sweep of Uresti's sword. He heard the air being cleaved just above him by the flashing blade. Zorro rolled to his feet, and through instinct alone, lashed out with the whip and struck Uresti's sword hand with a resounding crack. He did not try to wrap the tip of the whip around Uresti's hand. That would be suicide. No, he was trying to do as much damage as he could to the man's hand so that he would drop the sword. And that is just what Uresti did. With a yowl, he dropped the sword into the fire and leaped back, holding his hand. Blood was dripping from the cut on the back of his hand.

"Have you had enough, Señor Imposter?" Zorro inquired as he flicked the whip back and forth between them. "Are you willing to surrender? Or would you like another taste?" Zorro snapped the whip, causing it to crack the night air asunder.

Uresti, nursing his hand, dropped to his knees in the sand near the fire in an attitude of pain and resignation. "Sí, Señor Zorro, I surrender," he said sadly. He looked up into Zorro's face and saw the man relax the tension in his shoulders just the slightest amount. This was all he needed. Uresti reached into the fire and grabbed the sword. Hissing at the damage the heated metal was doing to his hand, he came up thrusting the sword at Zorro's mid-section.

All Zorro could do was to use the handle of his whip to bat the tip of the sword aside at the last moment. They circled the fire again. He was forced back and back as Uresti regained his feet and continued to thrust the sword right at him again and again. He could just barely defend himself with the whip's handle and each thrust came nearer and nearer to piercing his flesh. He failed to see the look of sadistic glee on Uresti's face.

Uresti could see that Zorro was mere inches away from stepping backwards into the thin air of the drop off into the ravine. It was clear that Zorro did not know the abyss was there in the darkness behind him. Another few thrusts like so . . . .

Zorro took another step backward and knew instantly that he was going to die. The nothingness beneath his boot pulled at him and he fell over the cliff. There was no time for his life to flash before his eyes and yet it seemed as if everything was happening in slow motion. The black maw of ravine opened up to swallow him and there was nothing he could do to help himself. He was falling on his back, facing the heavens, and the last thing he saw was the face of Uresti watching him from the ledge above. Uresti was laughing. Zorro closed his eyes.

"Whuummfff!" he exhaled sharply as his back hit something substantial. He bumped and slid on his back for some distance, knocking his hat from his head, dislodging dirt and rocks as he went. He could not breathe. But by instinct more than rational thought, he formed a loop with his whip by holding onto the handle with one hand, and with the other hand, grabbing a place about two feet down. Using this, he reached out and snagged it around a small boulder as he slid. The whip was almost pulled from his hands as the weight of his body slammed around. But he hung on, gasping for air and gasping for strength.

At length, he regained his air and looked up to take stock of his situation. In the almost inky blackness, he could just make out that he was hanging from his whip which was caught upon a small boulder projecting from a ledge which was no more than twelve inches wide. To his left, he could see that the ledge was somewhat wider, almost the width of his shoulders. That must have been where he had first struck. Then he had slid to his present location. Looking to his right, Zorro shuddered, for the ledge narrowed to six inches and then to nothing no more than an arm's length away. Another split second's delay in his actions, and there would have been nothing to stop his plunge into eternity. Breathing a silent prayer of thanks to his patron saints, Zorro gripped his whip all the tighter. He also breathed a prayer of supplication that the small boulder would hold and that he would not slip. He could feel the great nothingness hanging beneath him.

Up above, Uresti had watched as the hapless outlaw, whose identity he had taken, fell to his death in the darkness. He did not hear the body hit the bottom. He did not expect to. He had thrown bottles over the edge before and had heard only the tiniest sounds they made as they hit the bottom so far down below. A soft body would make no sound that he could hear. But he was sure the man was dead. There could be no doubt. Dropping his sword, Uresti turned his attention to his hand, which throbbed painfully, both from the cut it had taken from the whip and from the burns he had gotten when he picked up his sword from the fire. He examined his hand in the firelight. It was a mess. Shaking his head, he rummaged through his saddlebags with his left hand until he found a slab of bacon in his kit. It was the only thing he could think of to put on his burns. As to the pain, well, he had another bottle or two of wine did he not?

Down below, Zorro gathered his strength and pulled himself up with his arms until he could try and swing his right leg up and onto the narrow ledge. The perspiration ran down his face and trickled down his back as he strained against the whip. Slowly, painfully, he at last managed to raise his toe high enough to rest on the ledge. Then his right knee. Even in this awkward position, he took a moment to rest and breathe. The next step meant that he would have to take his right hand off of the whip in order to grab onto something else. But what else could he grab? It was so dark. Finally, he saw a horizontal crack in the rock about two feet above the ledge, just above his head. It extended for several feet in both directions. He could just reach it if he tried. Taking a deep breath, Zorro pulled himself up on straining arms until his chest was as close to his right hand as possible. He had one chance. Simultaneously, he dropped his chest on the whip, pressing it against the rock while his right hand shot up to grab the crack. The whip gave way abruptly and he was left dangling against the face of the rock only by the fingers of his right hand which were wedged into the crack. Little pieces of rock crumbled and broke away to fall into the ravine beneath him. Gasping from the strain on his right hand and arm, Zorro used the handle of the whip in his other hand to steady himself and stop swinging. The whip, now being useless, was dropped as Zorro reached out to grab the top of the little boulder with his left hand. Summoning his strength, he pulled himself up with the hand lodged in the crack, bracing himself by his left hand on top of the small boulder. Thus, he was able to swing his right knee up and onto the tiny ledge again.

Wasting no time, for his strength was running out, Zorro crabbed himself along sideways by using the crack until he reached the part of the ledge which was somewhat wider. Then he was able to pull his other leg up and onto the ledge and crawl along on his hands and knees as the ledge became wider still. He reached a point where he felt relatively safe and carefully moved into a seated position, with his back against the wall of the ravine. Leaning his head back against the stone wall, he rested for a good while. Then he looked up. The lip of the ravine was about twenty feet above him. He turned his head one way and then another, trying to see a way up. He was going to get out of this hole in the ground and complete what he came to do. He was not finished yet. Before this was over, the imposter was going to be absolutely subdued or dead. Zorro had his preference, but he did not allow himself to dwell upon it.

Uresti had seated himself near the fire and was cradling his hand against his chest as he drank from the bottle of wine. He chuckled to himself from time to time as he thought about the fight and how the great and infamous Zorro had plunged to his death not a dozen feet from where he now rested. The wine was taking effect. Despite his problems with the Magistrado, he was feeling quite satisfied. Lozano was probably dead, Hidalgo was dead and now the real Zorro was dead. He chuckled to himself again as he raised the bottle for another drink. However, before he could put the bottle to his lips, there was a sudden, terrific pain in his head that blinded him and sent him into unconsciousness.

A hatless Zorro stood over the imposter, holding by its barrel the pistol with which he had clouted Uresti. He tucked it into his belt as he dragged the imposter away from the fire a few feet. He stood and looked around for something with which to tie him. Spying the saddle, he went over to get the rope looped over the saddle horn. When he got back, he stopped to slap the larger man's face to make sure that he was still unconscious. Uresti did not move. Starting with his feet, Zorro knelt and began to tie up the imposter. He would really have rather found an excuse to kill the man, but justice would demand that he receive a fair trial. Zorro clenched his teeth. Sometimes, he wished that he could ignore that calling within him for just a few moments. But no. That was not who he was. Uresti would live and be tried by a judge. Just when and how this was going to happen was, of course, still a matter of conjecture. He would just have to think of a way to make it happen. That was all.

Zorro turned to tie Uresti's hands. He saw the burns and winced. Nevertheless, he had to bind the imposter. He dared not take chances with him. The rope was snagged on a rock and Zorro stopped to loosen it. When he turned back, he saw Uresti's eyes riveted on him. Uresti yelled out and began to struggle. He was like a madman. Alone, Zorro could not hold him. Uresti was too strong. He tried to pull the pistol from his banda, but Uresti knocked it away. It went off, blazing away into the night. Uresti surged upward and grabbed Zorro by the throat with both hands and began to squeeze. Choking and gasping, Zorro tried unsuccessfully to tear Uresti's hands away. Using his legs, he began rolling and kicking to get loose. It was becoming hard to breathe. Uresti struggled with him, inexorably squeezing his throat even as they rolled and kicked at each other. They began rolling toward the cliff's edge. In the struggle, Uresti ended up on top of Zorro, who was beginning to black out. Neither man realized that they were inches away from the edge. All they could focus upon was each other.

Zorro rolled to his left. At the same time, he hit Uresti with all his fading strength on the side of the head and Uresti struck the ground with a thump that knocked some of the breath from him, but he did not loosen his grip on Zorro's throat. Zorro found a momentary weakness as Uresti tried to regain his breath and forced his knee up and into Uresti's chest. With all of his remaining strength, even as his vision was fading, he rolled onto his back, pulling Uresti with him, and pushed with all of his might, using his arms and legs in unison. He propelled Uresti up and over his head, sending him . . . over the unseen cliff. Uresti never let go of Zorro's throat until he was torn away by his own weight, very nearly dragging Zorro over the cliff with him. Zorro rolled over and looked over the edge of the cliff, down into the darkness as he gasped to pull air into his starving lungs. He could see nothing, but he could hear the man screaming as he fell.

There would be no miracle for the imposter.

Then there was silence.

After a moment, Zorro rolled onto his back and rubbed his throat, trying to ease the pain. He was sure that his neck was two sizes smaller than it had once been. The skin was raw where Uresti's hands had gripped and strangled him. Finally, he got up and staggered over to the fire, which was almost burned out now. He sat down wearily by the imposter's saddle and heard something clink in the saddlebags. Reaching in, Zorro pulled out a full bottle of wine. Ordinarily, he would never do this sort of thing, but he needed something to ease his throat and the wine was available. He wearily pulled his mask away, scrubbing his face with his hand. Then he uncorked the bottle and drank. Though swallowing was painful, he drank again. He leaned his head back and tried to think.

Having the imposter to present to a judge was one part of the very nebulous plans he had made so far. Now that was denied him. He would have to prove that the man performing all those crimes was an imposter without even being able to produce a body. No one in his memory had ever explored the depths of this ravine and it would be impossible to retrieve Uresti's body. No one would ever know what had happened to the imposter. The only other way that Diego could think of was for Santiago to divulge the imposter's identity before the judge himself. He snorted at that very idea. Then as he took another drink of the wine, he thought that he may have just stumbled upon the only thing that would clear Diego and Zorro of the charges against them. Yes, he would just have to find a way to have Santiago confess to Judge Vasca . . . in person.

However, right now he had to decide what to do in order to inform Santiago about Hidalgo and Uresti. He put the bottle of wine down and stood up with a soft groan. He was quite sure that he was going to be black and blue for days afterward from the battle with Uresti. His right arm hurt him and so did his throat. A clean fight with the sword was much to be preferred over brawling. But now he had things to do, and he ignored his discomforts as well as he could.

Leading Hidalgo's horse over to the body, Diego, with great effort, lifted the man and placed him face down over his saddle, tying him securely so that he would not fall off. Then he took Uresti's horse and saddled it, tying the reins to the saddle horn of Hidalgo's horse. He would make a gift of them to the Magistrado. He only had an hour and a half at most to ride all the way back to Los Angeles before the sun came up. He would have to push the horses in order to make it. He whistled to Tornado, which caused him to grimace from the pain in his throat, and the stallion came trotting up to him. Looking around the camp, Diego picked up his things which had been scattered during the fight. He sheathed his sword and threw the cape back around his shoulders, tying the cords to hold it in place. He regretted the loss of his hat, but he had another one back home in the cave, as well as another whip. Taking a moment to secure his head cloth and to tie the mask back on his face, he mounted Tornado and took the reins of Hidalgo's horse. Without a backward glance, Zorro headed for Los Angeles.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

When Lolita finally returned from San Pedro, all she saw was Uresti's saddlebags lying on the ground next to a few empty wine bottles. Hidalgo's body was gone and so was Uresti. Desperately, she called out Uresti's name and listened in vain. Believing in her heart that Uresti had not waited for her as he had promised, she sat down on the ground next to the saddlebags and began to cry. After a while, when her tears had subsided, she wiped her eyes and idly opened the saddlebags to see what was inside. There was one more bottle of wine which was unopened, and then there were the items taken from the capitán. A watch, a gold ring and some other trinkets. Then she pulled out the small pouch full of coins that Hidalgo had tossed to Uresti. She spilled its contents into her hands. She could not make out exactly how much was there, but by the weight of the coins, it was a substantial sum. She looked around again, snuffling. Uresti must have thrown the soldier's body over the side of the cliff, she decided. But where was her lover? There was no evidence of him. And why had he left the saddlebag behind? She decided after a moment that something or someone must have scared him away.

Sniffling and wiping her nose with the corner of her skirt, Lolita once again weighed the coins in her hand. What was it that Uresti had said? He was going to Mexico to escape the Magistrado. With this money, Lolita could buy passage anywhere . . . and, as she thought about it, . . . not necessarily to Mexico. She mused for another moment or so and then put everything back into the saddlebags. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she got up and carried the saddlebags with her. She mounted her mule. Without a backward glance, Lolita headed for San Pedro and the first ship she could find to take her away from California.


	81. B4 Ch7: Assumptions and Recovery

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **7 – _Assumptions and Recovery_**

When Roberto went out before sunrise, in the dim light of early morning to feed and water Santiago's horses, what he found sent him running back into the Magistrado's house. Moments later, he was back with Santiago. There, in front of the stables, they saw Capitán Hidalgo lying on the ground next to his horse. He was dead from a gunshot wound to the stomach, but apparently he had been able do ride this far before he had died. Next to his mount was a black horse that Santiago thought that he recognized. Seeing Roberto watching him, Santiago said, "Go and fetch the doctor and then go to the cuartel to get Sergeant Garcia." Roberto left quickly, looking fearfully back at the dead man lying on the ground. When he was gone, Santiago went over to the black horse and picked up the near hind foot, examining the shoe. Then he checked the front one. There, as he expected, he found the small moon-shaped piece missing from the horseshoe. This was indeed the horse that Uresti rode when he was playing Zorro.

Santiago looked down at Hidalgo's body. He could guess at what had happened. Hidalgo had been successful in killing Uresti, but at the cost of his own life. This proved how dangerous a man Uresti had been, that he could kill a hardened soldier like the capitán. Santiago pursed his lips and crossed his arms as he thought. More and more of his plan was being eroded by events he had not counted upon. The core of his plan was still intact, but he would have to adjust to only having Lozano and those men under Lozano's direction, such as Aredo, to do his bidding. Lozano was the only one of these men he completely trusted now. He looked down at Hidalgo once again. The capitán had wavered somewhat after the death of Gracilia, but had not given him any real reason to doubt that he would not carry out his orders. It would seem that he had gone to his death carrying out his orders. However, Santiago was still cross that the man had gotten himself killed.

"I was not through with you yet," he said out loud. Then he smiled a bit. "But I suppose I should thank you for killing Uresti for me. I will see that you have a proper burial, with all the pomp and ceremony due to a loyal soldier of His Majesty, the King. I feel that it is the least I can do." Santiago replaced his smile with a look of sadness as the doctor and then Sergeant Garcia, followed by Roberto, rounded the corner of his house.

The doctor knelt on the ground next to the body and Sergeant Garcia said, "What has happened, Your Excellency? Is Capitán Hidalgo, . . . ?" He could not say the word.

"Sí, Sergeant," said Santiago. "The good capitán is dead." He pointed to the black horse. "I believe that to be the horse of the outlaw, Zorro. He must have been chasing the bandit when he was shot."

Garcia looked down at the lifeless body of the capitán and swallowed hard. "Zorro shot the capitán?" he asked in a small voice. First the Magistrado's wife and the two lancers, and now the capitán. What more would the outlaw do? He still did not understand what had happened to the man he used to secretly admire for his exploits, which were more on the side of right than those who were sworn to uphold the law at the time.

"Sí, I believe that to be true, Sergeant," said Santiago. Looking at the doctor who had finished his examination, he said, "Well, Doctor?"

"There are no other injuries other than the one pistol shot to the stomach," said Avila. "The blood is dry, so he may have been lying here for hours." He shrugged. "There is no reliable way to tell just how long he has been here."

It was only a few moments before a crowd had gathered to see and hear the latest tragedy caused by the outlaw, Zorro. From his hiding place on the roof of the stables, Zorro was chagrined to hear the masked rider being blamed for Hidalgo's death, but he had himself, left everyone with that impression by what he had done. However, he had not brought Hidalgo's body here to create new stories about Zorro, but to show Santiago that Uresti was dead as well. From what he had overheard when Santiago thought himself alone, he had been successful. Surely whatever Santiago's ultimate plans were, they had to be disrupted by the loss of two of his key men. That might keep Santiago off balance long enough for the plan, which Zorro had formulated on the way back to Los Angeles, to have time to coalesce.

Zorro's attention was drawn back to the crowd below him when Sergeant Garcia said, "But, Your Excellency. If that is Zorro's horse, where is Zorro?"

"That is a good question, Sergeant," said Santiago, at once resuming his role of Magistrado. "You will order your lancers to search the entire pueblo at once. He might still be here. He cannot get far on foot."

Garcia saluted and said, "At once, Your Excellency!" He hurried away toward the cuartel.

Zorro knew that he had to leave right away. He did not wish to be seen by any of the townspeople, most especially by the Magistrado. Leave it to Sergeant Garcia to ask the most inconvenient questions. However, it was time for him to leave in any case. The sun would soon be up and he should be far away before that happened. He slipped away across the roof of the stable and jumped to the ground on the other side where Tornado was waiting. Soon, he was on his way home, content with his work thus far. Uresti had paid for his crimes with his life and Hidalgo had been killed by one of his own fellow conspirators. Now he would turn his attentions to causing the downfall of Señor Santiago, the Serpent Magistrado.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Bernardo was alarmed at Zorro's state when he returned well after the morning sun had risen. He was missing his hat and his clothing was covered in dirt and dust. Taking Tornado's bridle, he held the stallion while Zorro dismounted. He gestured his questions.

"What, . . ." said Zorro, putting his hand to his throat, choking and rasping as he tried to speak. Hoarsely, he managed to say, "You want . . . to . . . know . . .what happened tonight?" He rubbed his throat and winced. Even more alarmed at Zorro's condition, Bernardo slowly nodded with eyes widened.

"I . . .I was . . . thrown over a cliff . . . and very nearly . . . strangled," said Zorro, with difficulty. He could barely speak without choking. Bernardo peered closely at Zorro's throat and saw the black and blue marks there. "Let us . . . get Tornado . . . bedded down . . . . We will . . . talk later," Zorro rasped. "But I . . . did have . . . certain . . . successes," he managed to say with a smile, as he pulled his mask down from his face to hang around his neck. Still concerned with his master's condition, Bernardo nevertheless returned Diego's smile. Quickly, they worked together to take care of the stallion's needs.

It took almost two days of Bernardo's liniments and potions being applied to Diego's throat for his young master's voice to return to some semblance of normalcy. The marks on Diego's throat were no less hideous to the mozo, but he thought he could see a lessening of the dark purples and blues caused by the fingers of the dead imposter. He shuddered to think that Diego could have been killed like that. Out of necessity, he and Diego continued to perfect their non-verbal communication skills during that time. Finally, Bernardo thought he had almost the whole picture concerning what had happened with Uresti and Capitán Hidalgo. Diego's plan had lessened the forces of evil by a factor of two. That was welcome news indeed.

While Diego's throat healed, they also continued to practice their fencing while monitoring the condition of Diego's father. The don did not seem to be slipping any further into depression, but he had run off a great many of the servants by declaring that their presence annoyed him. Some of them, like Crescensia, had gone away in tears, weeping not for themselves so much, but for the sad condition of their patrón. They knew that he was not himself because of his grief. The de la Vega servants scattered across the district, some staying with relatives, others finding themselves at loose ends with no prospects for work. Some considered leaving the Los Angeles area to seek jobs elsewhere. Finally, only Old Juan and a few vaqueros were all that remained of those who served the hacienda proper. There were still vaqueros tending the herds, but some of them were drifting off to find other work. Without the patrón to direct them, they were unsure of their future.

When Diego could speak with more ease, he told Bernardo the framework of his plans to deal with Santiago by having him confess before Judge Vasca. His plans would demand a great deal from his father and Bernardo was concerned that Don Alejandro might not be up to it given his current condition.

"I have to believe that my father will rise to the occasion," Diego said, as he rested the point of his sword on the cave floor. They were in the midst of another practice session. "I must convince him that my plan is the only one which will achieve the final goal. The de la Vega name has never been so dishonored in all the history of my family's lineage. My father's pride will cause him to stop at nothing to see the family name and the family honor restored. Once he knows just what Señor Santiago has done, it will most likely be very difficult to keep him from charging the Magistrado head on," Diego smiled. "But to take on the Magistrado face to face would of a certainty result in my father's death on charges of treason. We must be as subtle and as patient as is the Magistrado. I am certain that my father's acting abilities are not quite the equal of yours, my friend, but he will have to find it within himself to put on the greatest act of his life." Bernardo cocked his head questioningly. With a gleam in his eye, Diego continued. "Foxes are just as capable of subtlety as are serpents, Bernardo. We will beat Señor Santiago at his own game. We have already begun unraveling the fabric of his plans by denying him the use of two of his operatives. Tonight Zorro will speak to my father. It may take some time, but I believe that he will join us and help with the plans. And when this is over, Señor Santiago will understand the ultimate mistake he has made." Diego made his sword sing as it slashed the air three times. Bernardo met his eyes and there was complete understanding between them.


	82. B4 Ch8: A Specter Arises

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **8 – _A Specter Arises_**

The only light in the library came from the fireplace. The fire was burning low, but Don Alejandro had no interest in getting up to tend to it. He had sunk low in his chair, with his feet outstretched in front of him, a forgotten glass of wine in his hands. He just stared into the fire trying not to think or feel. It hurt too much to do either. He was all alone in the house except for Old Juan whom he had dismissed for the night. It was so quiet that Don Alejandro could hear the faint creaking of the hacienda walls as the house cooled for the night.

He wasn't sure just when, but he became aware that he knew he was not alone in the room. It may have been the faint draft of air that touched his face. The small current was cool and damp, just like the air inside of a tomb. A shudder centered itself on his spine. Someone or . . . something . . . was behind him. Afraid to confront the spirit that he just knew must be in the room with him, he dared not turn around and found himself frozen in place. He hoped that whatever it was would go away and leave him alone. The wine in his glass trembled.

"Señor de la Vega."

At the sound of his name, Don Alejandro's heart began pounding in his chest. Despite the pounding, he wondered that the voice sounded vaguely familiar even though he could not place it. He could not look, but nor could he ignore the voice. Gathering his courage, he swallowed once and slowly turned around in his chair to face whatever spirit had come into his home. At first, he could not make out anything. The creature seemed to blend with the inky blackness of the room. But then his eyes fell upon the shining hilt of the sword the spirit was wearing. It sparkled silver in the firelight. As his eyes adjusted further to the darkness, he could make out that a black cape shrouded the dark figure, and a mask covered most of its face. Suddenly, everything coalesced in his mind and he knew who was standing there in the library with him.

"Zorro!" he cried hoarsely, as he rose halfway out of his seat, the forgotten glass of wine falling to the carpet at his feet.

"Sí, Don Alejandro, it is I," said the spirit.

Don Alejandro was suddenly fiercely indignant and angry that this man had invaded the sanctity of his home uninvited and had frightened him in the process. To his mind, Zorro was a devil, but he was most certainly not a spirit. "Why have you come here?" he demanded, glaring up at the man in black. "Haven't you done enough to destroy my family?" If he only had a weapon, he thought bitterly to himself, he would take Zorro on this very instant.

Zorro saw the barely constrained anger. "Señor de la Vega, you must believe me," he said earnestly, holding out his open hands before him. "Neither I nor your son are guilty of acts of treason against the people of California or against His Majesty."

"It was proven in a court of law," said Don Alejandro, still glaring. "Diego could deny none of it. I begged him to give me proof of his innocence and he could not."

"Señor. Diego was maneuvered by a very clever man so that it would appear that he was in league with conspirators and traitors. Your son is intelligent, but inexperienced in the ways of devious men. He trusted the Magistrado." Zorro was stating the truth. As Diego, he had trusted the Magistrado, not knowing of the trap until it was too late.

"There is some reason to distrust the Magistrado?" asked Don Alejandro.

"He charged your son with treason, did he not?"

"Yes, but . . ."

"As Diego's father, that should have been enough."

In the silence that followed these words spoken in a firm, but quiet voice, Don Alejandro could only stare at Zorro. However, when he noticed Zorro's sad smile, he bristled. His anger came back again. "You are not one to speak, Señor Zorro," he said harshly. "It was proven in the trial that you are the one who is trying to take over California. You are the one who seduced my son to treason. Can you stand here before me and deny that you corrupted my son?"

"Señor," said Zorro. "There are others who can hide their face behind a cloth of black and call themselves by my name."

Don Alejandro looked at Zorro. "Are you trying to say that you are not the man who corrupted my son? That it was another?"

"Your son was not corrupted, Señor," Zorro said firmly. "He was used."

"By another who hides his face as you do," stated Don Alejandro in flat tones.

"By a man whom everyone trusts with the utmost confidence," said Zorro. "Señor Santiago, the Magistrado." He noted the surprise on Don Alejandro's face, which was soon replaced once again by anger.

"I cannot believe such a thing," Don Alejandro declared. He peered at Zorro in the dim light of the fireplace. "If what you say is true, why did you not come forward and refute the charges of treason against you?"

Zorro smiled. "As you might imagine Señor, I am not at liberty to defend myself against such charges in a court of law. It would mean my death."

Don Alejandro stared at Zorro for a moment and then sat back in his chair with a humph, his gaze fixed upon the fireplace once again.

Zorro studied Don Alejandro's profile briefly. Then he said. "I do not mean to be indelicate, Señor, but there was once a time when you said that you had hoped that your son would have been like me." Don Alejandro turned back again to stare at Zorro who continued. "I am the same man as I was then, Señor. I have not changed. I still fight on the side of justice for all men. I am still loyal to His Majesty. I have been characterized as many things, a hazard that I must accept. But I will not accept being labeled a traitor. Nor will I allow your son to remain thus dishonored."

"Then where were you during his trial?" demanded Don Alejandro. "Why did you not prevent his exile?"

"As I have said, I am not in a position to testify in court, before a judge." Zorro paused and bowed slightly to the older man. "But you are."

"What?" said Don Alejandro incredulously.

"I intend to prove that the Magistrado's charges are false. And you, Señor, will be my voice."

Don Alejandro snorted. "You must be mad," he said.

"Hardly that, Señor. You do wish to see your son cleared of all charges do you not?"

"My son is dead," came Don Alejandro's anguished reply.

"Señor de la Vega, do not give up hope," said Zorro.

Don Alejandro just stared. "What do you mean?" he said at last.

"Just that. Do not give up hope."

Angrily, Don Alejandro said, "The captain of the ship taking Diego away has certified that he is dead."

"Show me his body," challenged Zorro. When Don Alejandro did not reply, Zorro said in softer tones, "I can tell you no more than this: do not abandon your hope to see your son once again."

"And what makes you think that I wish to see my son again?" asked Don Alejandro in scathing tones.

"Because he is your son," came the quiet reply.

Don Alejandro glared at Zorro and then turned away to look into the fire once again. "My son is dead," he muttered.

Zorro tried again. "Señor. Consider this. _If_ your son is alive, do you not wish to see him cleared of all charges? _If_ your son is alive, do you not wish him to be honorably restored to you?"

There was only one response to that.

"Sí," Don Alejandro was forced to answer. Was there any chance, no matter how vanishingly small, that he could see his son declared to be innocent? That he could see his son restored to him once again? He looked at Zorro. He was still skeptical. "But how can I trust you, Señor Zorro?" he said. "How do I know that this is not part of some plan of yours to further your vile schemes? You say that someone else rides with your name at the orders of Señor Santiago. What proof can you offer to me? Show me what you say is true."

Zorro held up one hand. "Very well. Know this. The Magistrado desires to gain control over vast areas of California for his own purposes."

"That is just what he says about you," interjected Don Alejandro sarcastically.

Zorro smiled. "It is a popular accusation, Señor. But it is true of the Magistrado nevertheless." Then he sobered. "I tell you that in a few days, no more than a week at most, either Señor Santiago or one of his agents will approach you with a proposal to purchase your lands and your cattle for far less than one quarter of their value."

"Never," was Don Alejandro's flat statement.

Zorro continued, "His plan against you was well conceived. He could not take over your hacienda by force as the Eagle tried to do, but he could make you want to give it up. So he attacked you at your weakest point. The Magistrado deliberately set out to destroy your only son and heir, knowing the pride you have in the de la Vega name and honor. He knows that your son and his sons and grandsons mean everything to you. Without that, all of this," here Zorro swept his hand around to indicate the hacienda and its lands, "all of this means nothing to you. Everything you have worked for to preserve and hand down to your heirs will be as dust through your fingers. His plan is to take advantage of your despair."

"This is so much fantasy," said Don Alejandro. "I cannot believe it. And in any case, I will not sell so much as a grain of sand from this rancho to anyone."

"Then, if you do not sell, you will soon find yourself similarly charged with a crime as Diego was. Is it inconceivable that the father of a traitor should be found to be one himself? Your lands will then be forfeit to the crown and given to the man who discovered yet another traitor in Los Angeles. That man will be the Magistrado."

"I do not believe you," said Don Alejandro.

"You will."

Don Alejandro's mouth fell open at this statement delivered so concisely. This was becoming too much for him. He stood and confronted the man in black face to face. He was talking to a wanted criminal and the man who had corrupted his son. He could tolerate no more. To Zorro he said harshly, "All I know is that my son is dishonored and he is dead now because of you. You will leave my house, Señor. If you return, I will do my best to capture you and turn you over to the authorities, . . . or I will kill you."

Zorro looked at Don Alejandro for a moment then said, "I will leave, Señor." He walked behind Don Alejandro and over to the door of the library. Just before he opened the door, he paused with his hand upon the hilt of his sword. "Before I go Señor de la Vega, I will make you a promise. If the Magistrado does not make his offer to you within one week's time, I will present myself weaponless before you. At that time, you may do with me what you will." Zorro's eyes held Don Alejandro's. "That is how sure I am that I am right."

Don Alejandro could not help but be impressed with this statement, even in his anger. Nodding, he said, "Gladly I accept, Señor Zorro. But how will you know if . . ."

Zorro interrupted. "I will know, Señor. Have no fear on that score." Zorro started to leave, but paused again. "Oh, if I may offer one piece of advice? When Señor Santiago makes his offer, play along with him. Do not say yes or no, but that you will think about it. We will need time to gather our evidence against him, and we do not want to force him to take action against you at this time." Zorro gave Don Alejandro a salute and said "Adios" as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Insolenté!" humphed Don Alejandro to the empty room. "Give me advice will you?" he seethed. His foot bumped the empty wine glass on the floor and he picked it up. He refused to accept the outlaw's accusation that the Magistrado was part of a conspiracy. Señor Santiago had been nothing but fair and honorable in his dealings with everyone in the pueblo. How could he take the word of a treasonous outlaw that the Magistrado had falsely prosecuted Diego? He, himself, had been at the trial. He had also interrogated Diego personally and his son would answer none of his questions nor defend himself in any way. In a pique of anger, Don Alejandro threw the wine glass to shatter in the fireplace. The fire flared up as it consumed the few remaining drops of wine, mirroring his fiery mood.

But then, in the silence of the room, despite all the evidence, despite the conviction handed down by the judge, the small seed planted by Zorro took root in his heart. He sat down again and contemplated the dying flames in the fireplace. What if the things Zorro said came to pass? What if the Magistrado made the offer as the masked man said? Many had tried to take this land from him or his father or his father's father over the years by using force. Those who had tried had been beaten by force. But who was to say that someone would not use guile? That someone would use the law against him and his family in such a way that all would seem fair and legal? However fantastic, he had to concede that it was possible. Santiago was a very intelligent man and in a position of power. His reach extended well beyond just the pueblo of Los Angeles. And, as Zorro had said, anyone could dress as the masked outlaw and use his name. Having an outlaw at your beck and call would be a great advantage if you were the magistrado for the district, he realized. Then there was the question of whether his son was still alive. Dare he even allow himself to dream of that? His heart ached with the thought and he crushed the hope trying to take root there. He would not allow himself to believe and thus leave himself open to further despair when Zorro's words turned out to be false. But the thoughts would not leave him.

Don Alejandro fingered his beard as he stared at length into the glowing coals of the fireplace. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders. He was almost beyond caring one way or another. Let Zorro have the week that he spoke of. What did it matter? He had no faith in the words of a wanted criminal, a conspirator and traitor. If Santiago came, he came. If he did not, . . . no, he would not think about that now.

With a sigh, Don Alejandro realized that the night was far spent. He looked around the room and it occurred to him to wonder just how Zorro had entered the library. He would have seen him had he come in through the door and the one small window remained barred. Again, he shuddered. "Perhaps Zorro is a spirit," he thought. Then he rubbed his face with his hand and chided himself for letting his imagination get away from him. No. Zorro was a man. He had been flesh and blood the day that he had carried him to safety away from Monastario. He was sure of that. But the man was such a mystery. Where did he come from and where did he go? No one knew even after all this time. Finally, knowing that there was no answer to these questions, Don Alejandro decided that it was time to go to bed. He had had enough thinking for one night without wondering about Zorro's whereabouts. Leaving the coals the fireplace to burn themselves into cold ashes, he finally went upstairs to bed.


	83. B4 Ch9: The Plan

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **9 – The Plan**

When old Juan timidly knocked upon the door of the library, Don Alejandro acknowledged him tersely. Bowing humbly, Juan came in just far enough to announce that Don Alejandro had a visitor. "Your pardon, Patrón, but the Magistrado, Señor Santiago, wishes to see you." He waited a bit fearfully, for his patron's temper remained on a short fuse. One never knew just how he would react. Would he be sunken into a deep despondency, or would he react in anger at being disturbed?

From behind his desk, Don Alejandro looked up with bleary eyes and removed his glasses. The echo of Zorro's words of a week ago came to him, but he shrugged it off. Standing, he said, "You may show him in." He ran his fingers through his hair and tugged at his rather rumpled clothing. He was not prepared to receive a visitor, but he shrugged mentally and decided that he did not care how he looked to the Magistrado. The man would just have to take him as he was. It was this general air of melancholy which now permeated his life, and was affecting everything around him. He knew that the rancho was not doing well without his hand to guide it, but it just didn't matter so much anymore. Almost nothing mattered anymore.

Behind the wall, in the secret passage, Zorro waited, listening. Bernardo had seen the Magistrado driving up in his carriage, and had run to tell Diego. Diego knew this was the day that Zorro's prophetic words to his father would come true. He quickly donned the silky black costume and ran silently through the tunnels to place himself where he could hear the conversation. He prayed that his father would heed Zorro's words and do nothing which would push the Magistrado too much at this time. Bernardo also came and stood beside him to listen.

Old Juan was welcoming Santiago into the library. Don Alejandro saw Santiago's eyes sweep him up and down, evaluating his rough appearance. He found it within himself to draw himself up with what dignity he still possessed to meet the Magistrado's gaze.

"Don Alejandro, I am so glad to see you," said Santiago warmly. He felt confident that his mission would succeed. He could see the attitude of defeat and despair which surrounded Don Alejandro despite his attempt to cover it up. The man's unkempt hair and beard, the eyes reddened from lack of restful sleep, the deepening creases in his face, the clothing that looked as though it had been slept in, all of these things painted the picture which Santiago had longed to see. This was in addition to the other things he had noted as the carriage brought him to the hacienda. The cattle seemed scattered and the vaqueros seemed to have no direction. Even the general appearance of the rancho seemed run down, as if no one was concerned enough to take care of it anymore. He had also noticed the absence of any servants save the one old peon. Yes, his plan for Don Alejandro would soon succeed.

Don Alejandro was still enough of a gentleman to make the effort to receive his guest. "Please be seated, Señor Magistrado," he said, pointing to one of the chairs by the fireplace. "Make yourself comfortable. Juan, pour some wine for our guest." Don Alejandro sat in the chair facing the Magistrado as Juan busied himself to pour the wine.

Santiago seated himself and arranged his sword comfortably at his side. Taking the glass of wine, he held it up and said, "Salude." Don Alejandro held up his glass and nodded in return. Both men drank. Waiving a hand at Juan, Don Alejandro dismissed him. They were now alone.

Don Alejandro spoke first. "To what do I owe the _honor_ of your visit, Señor Magistrado?"

Santiago did not miss the slight emphasis on the word 'honor'. He knew that there was no love lost between the two of them. "I wanted to come and see how you were, Don Alejandro," he said. "You are one of the leading citizens of the district and many are concerned about your health and wellbeing. You have been long absent from the pueblo."

"That is my affair," said Don Alejandro testily.

"Of course, Don Alejandro," said Santiago. "I understand how difficult things must be for you now." He saw Don Alejandro's eyes narrow. "I have come this evening to see if there is anything that I can do for you in your time of need. I seem to notice that the rancho is quite different from the last time I visited."

"I need nothing, Señor," said Don Alejandro tersely. "I can handle my own rancho without any outside help."

"But it is difficult, is it not?" said Santiago. "And now all your work is for nothing. You have no heirs, no one to whom you can leave all of this." He indicated the rancho with a sweep of his hand. "I am deeply saddened by your situation, Señor."

Don Alejandro started to respond heatedly, but then he subsided. The man was only speaking the truth after all.

Santiago noted this and knew that the old man's heart was still broken for his son's sake. "Señor," he said. "I wish to help you, truly I do. It was my unhappy fate to be the one who had to perform his duty and uphold the law where your son was concerned." Don Alejandro looked up with sorrowful eyes. Santiago was delighted. The old man was vulnerable in a way that no frontal assault could have accomplished. He would now present his offer and see whether or not the old hacendado would take it. "I know our former warm friendship cannot be regained," he said. "It is only natural. But I still hold you in the deepest regard, Señor de la Vega. Perhaps, just perhaps, I can offer something that will help."

Behind the wall, in the tunnel, Zorro and Bernardo exchanged looks. They both knew the offer was about to be made.

"What can help me, Señor Magistrado?" asked Don Alejandro. "I have nothing left but this rancho. It has been my life."

"Yes, you have this rancho, Don Alejandro, but have you considered that you need not remain here the rest of your life?" Santiago said, as gently as he could. "As long as you live here, you will be reminded of the son you no longer have, of the years of work and hardship that you faced to build it up, only to have no one of your blood to take it and continue to build upon what you have achieved."

Don Alejandro felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. _Zorro was right!_ he thought to himself. How did the man know so much? Santiago was going to make an offer to buy the rancho. He was going to make it right now. And if Zorro was right about Santiago, could he possibly be right about Diego as well? Don Alejandro nurtured the tiny seed of hope Zorro had brought to him on that dark night one week ago. Hope that had seemed all but impossible. Yet, he considered, how many times had Zorro, the real Zorro, miraculously accomplished what was considered to be the impossible? Don Alejandro felt a jolt that coursed through his body. Diego not a traitor? Diego, alive? If it were only so!

In something which he would later describe as a "leap of faith", Don Alejandro chose at that moment to believe Zorro. No, his son was not a traitor and somehow the Magistrado was involved in Diego's wrongful conviction. With this hope to give him strength, Don Alejandro gathered his wits about him. What was it Zorro had told him? Oh, yes. Play along with the Magistrado. Do not give him an answer right away. Don Alejandro had never been much of an actor, but he would do his best not to let Santiago see that hope had sprung anew in his breast.

Santiago saw the tremor which shook Don Alejandro, and he took it to be the older man's emotional reaction to his statements. He leaned forward and smiled gently. "Don Alejandro, please. Let me help you. I would be willing to purchase this rancho, releasing you from its burden. You would then be free. Free to leave this place and forget all this unpleasantness. You might even wish to travel to Spain and live out your life in the mother country in comfort. Señor, tell me. Would you be interested in such an arrangement? I have loved this place since the first time I saw it with you in the spring. You would be leaving this place in good hands and I would care for it as you would. I am not a wealthy man, Don Alejandro, but I have a little money put aside. I can offer you ten thousand pesos for this hacienda and the rancho."

Don Alejandro's blood boiled as he thought about the snake of a man sitting across from him, but he kept his face still. Ten thousand pesos indeed! That was barely more than one tenth of what his land was worth, not to mention all the cattle and horses. Don Alejandro was deeply insulted. At this moment, he would like nothing better than to run the man through with his very own sword. Zorro's masked face then flashed before him followed by Diego's visage. With iron control, he forced himself to remain calm. He would need to continue to play the part of the despairing father and pretend to be somewhat interested in Santiago's offer. It was some moments before he trusted himself to speak.

"Señor Magistrado. Much of what you say is true," he said. "I find only sadness within these walls. But this is my home and the home of my father and of his father." He paused and looked down at the floor. Then he continued, "I will not refuse your offer, Señor, nor will I accept it." Santiago's eyes narrowed, then resumed their pious look as Don Alejandro continued. "I must have time to think."

"Of course, Don Alejandro, of course," said Santiago, with a gentle smile. "You certainly do not have to make a decision now." Inwardly, the Magistrado was elated. This was better than he had hoped. He had been prepared for an outright refusal as a first response. "Take all the time you need to reflect upon what you wish to do and you may call upon me anytime to discuss the matter further. My door is always open to you, Señor."

Don Alejandro stood and Santiago did likewise. "I will consider what you have said, Señor Magistrado," said Don Alejandro. "Thank you for coming. Let me walk you to your carriage."

Not wishing to push the older man too hard, Santiago bowed to acknowledge Don Alejandro's dismissal and both men left the library.

Zorro was quite proud of his father. He knew from the conversation that Don Alejandro was doing as he had requested; playing along with Santiago in order to give them the time they needed to bring the Magistrado to justice and to clear Diego's name and by extension, that of Zorro's. Motioning to Bernardo to remain where he was, Zorro moved the bookcase out of the way and stepped into the library, closing the opening behind him. He walked to the end of his father's desk and leaned back against it with his arms crossed, waiting for his father to return. He did not have long to wait.

At first, Don Alejandro did not see him. His head was bowed in concentration as he walked into the room. Then his head snapped up as he realized that he was not alone. "Zorro!" he exclaimed softly.

Zorro smiled. "Sí, Señor de la Vega. I have returned as I said I would one week to the day of our last meeting," he said. "You have seen Señor Santiago, yes?"

"Sí, he was here," said Don Alejandro.

"And did he not make the offer as I said?"

"Sí, Señor Zorro. It was just as you said it would be." Don Alejandro came the rest of the way into the room and walked up to Zorro who straightened and let his arms fall to his sides. Looking up into the masked man's eyes, Don Alejandro said, "I believe you now. I believe Diego is not a traitor and that Santiago is at the bottom of it all. I am willing to listen to anything that you have to say, Señor." He continued to look into the eyes of Zorro and was surprised to note that they were very like Diego's. This was the first time he had been this close to the masked man in the light when his mind was not clouded by the delirium caused by a gunshot wound. However, before he could pursue this further, Zorro spoke again.

"It is well, Señor de la Vega," said Zorro with satisfaction. "First, be sure to remember that the Magistrado is a very intelligent man and has covered his unsavory activities extremely well. I, myself, did not realize just how dangerous he was until it was too late to help Diego. With the authority and power he wields as an officer of the crown, it will be very difficult to expose him for the corrupt man he is and see that he is made to answer for his crimes. You must be willing to do things that may be distasteful to you and to face the possibility of succumbing to the same fate as your son should we fail."

Zorro watched as Don Alejandro drew himself up at the thought of what might be required to bring Santiago down. He knew his father's honor would be the biggest obstacle that the two of them would face. As Zorro, Diego had walked a fine line within himself many times when he carried out actions against the corrupt men and oppressors who had plagued the people of the pueblo. Sometimes, personal honor just had to stand aside when the greater good of the people you have sworn to protect is at stake. Zorro hoped his father was courageous enough to see this. To be narrowminded now would compromise any hope of accomplishing their goal.

At last, Don Alejandro spoke. "I said I am willing to listen to what you have to say, Señor Zorro. My son's life is important to me. I find that it is more important to me than my own life . . . my own honor. I have come to realize that these last dark days."

Zorro felt his heart warmed by these words, but he did not show it outwardly. It would not do to reveal too much of himself to Don Alejandro. It was a great risk as it was to be this close to his father for fear that he would recognize the man behind the mask. So he cloaked himself further within the person of Zorro. "Splendid," he said lightly. "Here then, is my plan. You, Señor, will continue to give the impression that you are despondent over the fate of Diego. As a matter of fact, you will drink more and care less about the rancho as the days pass. You must give the appearance of a man who has given up on life and who is grieving constantly over the son who was banished in dishonor and died in such a 'distasteful' fashion." Don Alejandro's eyes locked with those of Zorro, at once resenting such words, yet, at last, yielding to the masked man's need to say them. Zorro acknowledged this with a subtle nod and continued. "You will spend most of your time at the tavern, drinking and appearing by turns sullen and distraught. You will make much of how everything at the rancho and in the pueblo reminds you of Diego and the shame you bear because of him and how he has hurt you. It will be the greatest acting role of your life." Zorro smiled.

"I understand what you want, Señor Zorro, but what good will all that do?" Don Alejandro demanded. "Shouldn't we be working to destroy the Magistrado?"

"Señor de la Vega," said Zorro. "You will present the picture that he expects to see, an old man, broken by what he has done to your son. This will make him overconfident, and we will take advantage of this. We will draw him to us instead of doing things his way. We will make him come to us, where we will hold the upper hand."

"And what will you be doing?" Don Alejandro asked dryly.

"I, Señor, will be laying the trap for the Magistrado. Our only hope is to get Señor Santiago to personally confess to his crimes before a judge. A judge that cannot be intimidated by our illustrious Magistrado. And . . . Sebastian Antonio Vasca is that judge."

"Judge Vasca!" exclaimed Don Alejandro. "But he is the one who heard all the evidence presented against Diego and rendered the verdict of guilty against him! He will not listen to you, an outlaw, or me, the father of a traitor if we should try to bring accusations against the Magistrado."

Zorro smiled. "Ah, but that is why we are going to have Señor Santiago do the talking. If my plans work, Judge Vasca will hear from the Magistrado's own lips the admission of his guilt."

Don Alejandro slowly shook his head. He was a man of direct action and all this talk of plans and acting was more than he could take in. Zorro could see the rising skepticism in his father's attitude. How different from Bernardo, who wholeheartedly embraced the plans they made together, no matter how wild they might seem. He would have to carefully lead his father into this. "Señor," he said, "Remember, I have had some experience at this kind of 'warfare'. When an enemy is too strong to take by direct force, you must use other methods. I have chosen to use the way of the fox. We will manipulate our dear Magistrado by using our own wits and cunning. From behind the scenes, we will cause him to do what we want, when we want it. However," and here Zorro's eyes flashed, "the fox does have his fangs and is not afraid to use them. If the time for the use of force comes, I am ready." Here Zorro gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. "I have my own honor, Señor. I will do what is necessary to see that justice is done and that Diego's name is cleared of these charges. I have pledged myself to that cause."

Don Alejandro chose this moment to ask a question of the mysterious man standing before him. One that he had pondered many times. It burned within him now. "Tell, me, Señor Zorro," he said. "Who are you? Who are you that you concern yourself with the fate of so many, risking your life for them? Who are you that you would do this for me and my son with death your only reward should we fail? This is not your fight."

Zorro answered quickly. "Oh, but it is my fight, Señor. Just as it is your fight, and the fight of all those who oppose tyranny and injustice. Who am I, you ask?" He paused. "I am you, Señor," he said, pointing briefly at Don Alejandro, whose eyebrows rose in surprise. Zorro continued, his voice growing stronger. "You, who suffers for the son wrongfully convicted as a traitor. I am the vaquero and the ranchero who suffer under punishing taxes, unlawfully demanded. I am the peon or the Indian toiling in poverty who is stripped from his home and forced into slave labor for the benefit of corrupt officials. I am the child who cries in the night seeking a mother or father who is no longer there because they were falsely imprisoned. I am all who suffer under the rule of those who use the law for their own purposes. And thus, . . . I am your son, . . . Diego."

Zorro knew he was taking a terrible risk, but oh, how good it felt to admit his identity to his father, even couched as it was in anonymity. He held himself absolutely still as his father continued to look at him. However, it seemed this veiled admission had succeeded in keeping his identity secret, for his father gave no indication of recognition.

Don Alejandro continued to stare at Zorro, feeling the power behind the words so nobly spoken. He felt a swelling in his breast that came from standing in the presence of such a man. All of his life, he had aspired to be such a man, but now in the presence of El Zorro, he could see how miserably little he had accomplished. From now on, he would never doubt the motives of this man who stood before him. Indeed, he would endeavor to be more like him. Then, looking into the distance beyond the walls of the library, he considered that perhaps his son Diego's shortcomings were nothing more than an extension of his own deficiencies. The son could be no better than the father, could he? In that moment, Don Alejandro found a place in his heart to truly accept Diego as he was. No longer would he try to remake his son into something he was not. Diego was Diego. Diego was his son. His eyes misted over as he thought about Diego so far away from him now. He longed to tell his son just how much he loved him and he could not.

Clearing his throat, Don Alejandro spoke softly, "Señor Zorro, will you take my hand in friendship? It is my greatest honor to know you." He extended his hand.

Zorro found that he had to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat. It was all he could do as he grasped his father's hand not to envelope him in an embrace. The two men gripped each other's hands tightly for several moments. Then, Zorro stepped back.

El Zorro still stood before him, an unknown behind the mask, but Don Alejandro felt as if he knew who this man dressed in black was on some level so deep within himself that there were no words to express it. He knew also that he would trust his life to this man. And the life of his son. "Señor Zorro, I will do as you ask," he said with conviction. "I will act the part of the despairing father. Together we will bring the Magistrado to justice and clear my son's name. But who knows where he is and when I will ever see him again? I would not wish to live if he should die of some misfortune in exile, never knowing he had been exonerated. If only I could ask Diego's forgiveness for not believing in him. If only I could tell Diego not to give up hope!"

Zorro smiled warmly. "Somehow I think he knows already, Don Alejandro. I believe he is just waiting for word that it is safe to come home."

"How...?" asked Don Alejandro in wonder. "Do you know where he is?"

"Allow me to keep my secrets, Señor," said Zorro with a bow. "When the time comes, I will know where to find Diego and send your message to him. I promise this upon my life."

All Don Alejandro could say was, "Graciás, Señor." He swallowed hard.

"Well, then," said Zorro, knowing that it was time to leave. "You know what to do. Gradually, over the next few days, you will spend less and less time at the rancho and more time at the tavern. Let everyone hear of your despair. Santiago will be sure to be listening. Let your appearance go. Wear the same clothing for many days in a row as if you do not care about yourself. Wallow in your self pity."

"This is most distasteful, Señor Zorro," said Don Alejandro, "but I will do it."

"Good," said Zorro. "I will leave you now." He started to go, then turned back. "Oh. If I may make a suggestion, Señor de la Vega? Drink with Sergeant Garcia when you can. He will be sure to repeat all that you say to the Magistrado and he is a good source of information if you are careful. The man has a heart of gold, but he cannot keep a secret." Zorro laughed gently.

Don Alejandro found himself smiling back at Zorro. It was the first time he had felt like smiling about anything for a long time. He watched as Zorro gave him a jaunty salute and floated silently out of the room. He knew that it would be no use to follow him to see where he went. By the time he got to the door, Zorro would be gone. Don Alejandro was once again amazed at the abilities of the man. Then, as he looked around the library, he took a deep breath. Now he was to embark on his new acting career. The clothes he was wearing would do for a start. He would simply sleep in them, adding to their rumpled appearance. Tomorrow he would go to the tavern. He was committed to Zorro's plan, but he would rather have stormed Santiago's office this very day and made him to confess by force. It would not have been the most expedient thing to do, but somehow, Don Alejandro thought it would have made him feel much better.

Shaking his head, Don Alejandro blew out the candles and thoughtfully made his way upstairs to his room by way of the stairs in the patio. Once up on the balcony, he paused, leaning on the railing and looking up at the stars. How brightly they shone in a moonless sky. He wondered where Diego was and if he might be looking up at the same stars. _My son, my son!_ cried Don Alejandro within himself. _You are alive!_ And Don Alejandro felt himself coming alive once again. How long he stood there, he later could not remember, but finally he turned and entered his room, a smile upon his face.


	84. B4 Ch10: Don Alejandro, Thespian

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **10 – _Don Alejandro, Thespian_**

"Innkeeper! More wine!"

From behind the bar of the tavern, Tío shook his head. Never had he seen Don Alejandro act like this. The man had consumed four bottles of wine today and the evening was growing late. And this was the fifth day that Don Alejandro had come to the tavern, drinking more each day. Tío reached for his less expensive wine. He was sure that Don Alejandro would not notice the switch by now and he could pocket the difference in the price. He did not like having the elder de la Vega in his tavern. The man was positively gloomy, spending all his time talking, when anyone would listen, concerning everything which had gone wrong in his life. The other customers soon learned to stay away from him and some of them stopped coming altogether. Even the other dons, the friends who had stood beside him during the trial, even they were avoiding Don Alejandro now. Only Sergeant Garcia would sit and drink with Don Alejandro. In Tío's opinion, only the offer of wine kept the portly soldier coming back for more.

"Sí, Señor de la Vega. I am coming!" he called out, as he hurried over to the corner table where Don Alejandro had seated himself. He placed the wine bottle on the table and took the empty one away. He gave Don Alejandro a cross look, quickly concealed. Business had been bad since even before the trial, and now Don Alejandro was positively ruining him.

Don Alejandro stared at the bottle for a moment and then splashed wine into his glass, ignoring the droplets which spattered the table. He had drunk wine all of his life, but he had never consumed so much for so many days. His head spun a bit from the effects of the wine and he felt slightly sick to his stomach. _Señor Zorro,_ he thought to himself. _This had better be worth it. This had better have the desired effect on Santiago or you will rue the day you were born for putting me through this misery._ He had not seen Zorro since that day in the library at the hacienda. He pressed on with his part of the plan because he had agreed to do so. But he was beginning to feel as though he was all alone in his efforts. Since he had no way to contact Zorro, he could not demand that the man appear and give an account of himself. It was the not knowing that was driving him slightly mad. He did not like operating blindly like this.

The door to the tavern opened and Sergeant Garcia came into the room, followed closely by Corporal Reyes. Garcia greeted one or two of the few customers who were there. He looked hopefully towards Don Alejandro and was happy to see the older man beckon him over. Corporal Reyes looked doubtfully at the older man, who had certainly had much too much wine already, and decided that he really wasn't as thirsty as he thought he was. Without making a sound, he turned and slipped back out of the tavern, closing the door softly behind him. Sergeant Garcia was quite happy to receive the invitation and he did not notice that Reyes was gone for a moment or two. Shrugging his shoulders at the folly of the corporal for missing out on free wine, he snagged a glass from the bar and started toward the corner table. He was stopped by Tio's hand on his arm.

"Sergeant, you must do something," Tío hissed in a low voice.

"What must I do?" inquired the Sergeant.

"You have to do something about . . . you know," said Tío, nodding his head toward Don Alejandro. "He is ruining my business."

"He pays for his wine, does he not?" asked Garcia.

"Sí, he pays for the wine, but people will not come here while he is sitting over there making a nuisance of himself," said Tío. "No one wishes to hear about his misfortunes over and over. I am as sorry for Don Alejandro's troubles as the next man, but I have a business to run, Sergeant."

Garcia looked over at Don Alejandro who was staring absently into his wine glass, looking rather lost. "All right, Tío. I will see what I can do," he said. "But I have never yet been able to make Don Alejandro do anything that he did not wish to do." He pushed away from the bar and walked over to Don Alejandro's table. Tío busied himself polishing some glasses, but kept a close eye on the proceedings.

"Sit down, Sergeant," said Don Alejandro. "Join me in a glass of wine."

"Graciás, Don Alejandro," said the sergeant. Garcia felt sorry for the older man. He had lost his only son and now he was all alone in the world. Sergeant Garcia could identify with that feeling a little. He had no wife or children of his own and felt lonely at times. He could see how much this whole ordeal had aged Don Alejandro. Before the trial, the don was a healthy and strong man, full of vitality. Now here he was, with eyes rimmed in red, his hair uncombed, and his clothing rumpled and showing signs of wear. And, although Sergeant Garcia did not like to admit it to himself, Don Alejandro was not sober.

Don Alejandro poured wine into Garcia's glass, managing to spill some along the way, which Garcia regretted immensely. "Well, Sergeant, at least you will still drink with me. I thank you for that. It seems that you are my only friend," he said in gloomy tones.

"Oh no, Don Alejandro!" said Garcia. "You have many friends." He tried to make excuses for the others, hoping to lift Don Alejandro's spirits. "It is just that, maybe, they have other things to do right now. I am sure some of them will come later."

Don Alejandro stared at the guitar leaning against the mantle of the tavern's fireplace. He pointed. "Do you see that guitar, Sergeant? My Diego used to play that guitar sometimes. Do you remember?"

"Sí, I remember," said Garcia, bracing himself for what he knew would follow. He had heard all of this before. He missed Don Diego too, and was still saddened by the loss of his good friend, but there was nothing he could do to change the way things were. It was Don Alejandro who could not seem to let go. Garcia gulped his wine as he waited.

"What happened to my son, Sergeant?" demanded Don Alejandro. "You used to spend time with him. Why did he turn on us like that? Oh, to have him here again playing that guitar, singing and smiling at the señoritas. Like none of this nightmare ever happened!" Don Alejandro paused only long enough to take a swallow of wine. "Why does everything have to remind me of him?" he said sorrowfully. "I cannot bear to remain at my home because it reminds me of Diego. And even here in the pueblo, I am constantly reminded of him. If I could only forget for even a few minutes!" Don Alejandro drained his glass and set it down with a loud thump. If only he could forget the nausea in his stomach, he thought ruefully. Nevertheless, he filled both his glass and the Sergeant's glass once again.

Sergeant Garcia knew that he had no answers for the older man. Glancing around, he happened to see Tío glaring at him across the way while fiercely polishing another glass. Grimacing, Garcia remembered his promise to the innkeeper. Taking another drink from his glass, he came up with an idea "Don Alejandro, why don't you go home and get some sleep?" he suggested. "I am sure everything will look better to you in the morning."

"Sleep!" bellowed Don Alejandro, causing the few people in the tavern to turn and stare at him. Garcia's mouth fell open. "I cannot sleep, don't you see?" he shouted. "When I sleep, all I dream about is Diego and the shame he brought upon himself and on me! Sometimes I dream it is I who was brought up on charges of treason. It is I who was convicted. No, it is better to remain awake than to dream."

Sergeant Garcia motioned with his hands to try and quiet Don Alejandro's tone. "But Don Alejandro, you must get some rest!" he said, with true concern on his face. "Please, let me take you home." Then, as a thought came to him, he said, "I will stay with you tonight. No one will come to accuse you of anything while I am there guarding the hacienda. Then you can sleep peacefully."

Don Alejandro was touched by the Sergeant's genuine concern for him. Deciding that he did indeed want to go home and crawl into bed, he took the Sergeant up on his offer. Scrubbing his face with his hand, he said, "Would that I could believe you, Sergeant. I would like nothing better than to be able to sleep undisturbed."

"Oh, you can believe me, Don Alejandro," said Sergeant Garcia warmly. "Just let me get my horse from the cuartel and I will ride with you to your hacienda. You just wait here." Gulping down the rest of his wine, Garcia left the tavern. But not before he caught sight of Tío nodding and smiling at him in approval.

He was back in short order, tying his horse to the hitching post outside the tavern. As he entered, he found Don Alejandro staring into the fireplace, just watching the flames. He went over to the older man. "Don Alejandro?" he said. There was no response. A little louder, "Don Alejandro?"

"Mmmm, what? Oh, it is you Sergeant. What do you want?"asked Don Alejandro, looking up at him with his red-rimmed eyes.

Pointing, Garcia said, "We can leave now, Don Alejandro. I have my horse just outside."

"Who said anything about leaving?" grumped Don Alejandro.

Garcia looked non-plussed. He was sure that he had convinced the older man to go home and get some sleep. "Don't you remember, Don Alejandro? I said I would go with you to your hacienda and protect you so that you could get some sleep. It was only a few moments ago." He sincerely hoped Don Alejandro would remember. He did not think he could convince him all over again.

"Oh, sí, . . . sí. I seem to remember now," said Don Alejandro, nodding absently. He stood up and swayed dizzily. He really had drunk too much wine today. He felt Sergeant Garcia's hand on his arm to steady him. At first, he was inclined to knock it away, then he found he needed the help. Once again, he threw a few silent imprecations towards Zorro should all this drinking nonsense turn out to be useless. He felt very ill.

Slowly, the two of them went out of the tavern and mounted their horses. The road home seemed longer than ever. They were almost to the hacienda when Don Alejandro suddenly had to dismount and empty the contents of his stomach into the dust of the road. He turned back to his horse and leaned against the saddle for support, clinging to the saddle horn. Sergeant Garcia was by his side in a moment.

"Don Alejandro, are you all right?" he asked.

"No, Sergeant I am not all right!" Don Alejandro barked, and then immediately regretted it. He put his hand to his head. He had such a headache. "I will walk the rest of the way. You just lead the horses slowly. Very slowly." Continuing to hold onto the saddle, Don Alejandro made his slow progress to the hacienda. After Garcia tied up the horses, they entered the patio. Old Juan was there to greet them.

Sergeant Garcia said, "Now you just go with your servant and go up to bed. Don't worry about me. I will take up my post down here. I will protect you just as I have said, Don Alejandro. You will be safe."

Don Alejandro nodded and started up the stairs. Halfway up, he had to lean on Juan to make it the rest of the way. By the Saints, he was ill! No matter what Zorro wanted him to do, he would not drink that much again, . . . ever. Once in his room, he dismissed Juan and just fell on his bed, not bothering to change clothes. What he wouldn't give to be to take a nice hot bath and change into some clean clothes. But no. He still had a part to play. Rolling on his side and holding his stomach in discomfort, he finally dropped off to sleep.

Down below, Sergeant Garcia stood looking up at the now darkened room. Sighing, he sat down on the bench around the great tree that covered most of the patio with its spreading branches. He had promised Don Diego that he would take care of Don Alejandro for him. But Garcia was at a loss as to what he could really do to help the older don. With Diego now dead, there was nothing for Don Alejandro to live for. He had lost his beloved wife and now his only son. Sadly, Garcia shook his head. Well, he would just do what he could, little as that might be, and hope for the best. He leaned back against the tree and tried to make himself comfortable. There was nothing more he could do for Don Alejandro tonight. Soon his eyes became heavy and he was fast asleep.

Just as he had from time to time in the last few days, Zorro had secretly observed tonight's performance in the tavern from a hidden vantage point. He knew his father's health was suffering from the prolonged drinking bout, but everything must be as authentic as possible. Santiago would know instantly if something were amiss. Zorro was pleased at his father's acting capabilities. He was carrying on the part of the grieving father very well indeed. Santiago could not help being fooled, just as all the others in the pueblo were fooled. Then Zorro had followed his father and the sergeant from a discreet distance as they traveled home in the darkness this night. And now, as he observed his father's face in the pool of moonlight illuminating the elder man in his bed, he hated to awaken him. But he needed to speak with him. It was time to implement the next part of the plan.

Kneeling next to the bed, Zorro gently shook Don Alejandro's shoulder. Then he shook it again and called, "Señor de la Vega. Señor de la Vega, you must wake up."

"Diego?" came Don Alejandro's questioning voice as he struggled to wake up. The voice out of his dreams sounded so much like Diego's.

Again, Zorro felt a lump in his throat as he experienced the affection he had for his father. He swallowed hard and said gently, "No, Don Alejandro. It is Zorro. I must speak with you."

Groggily, Don Alejandro rose to a sitting position on the side of his bed. He had to put his hand to his head to ease his headache. "I could have sworn that Diego was in this room," he said to Zorro as he looked around the bedroom. "But I suppose it is just the effects of the wine." His disappointment was quite evident.

Zorro stood and gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. Once again he felt the overwhelming urge to tell his father who he was. He opened his mouth to speak, but Don Alejandro cut him off.

"Where have you been?" the older man demanded gruffly as he looked up at Zorro. "I have been doing what you asked and with only a sour stomach and a headache for my efforts while you are hiding away somewhere."

The moment lost, Zorro got hold of himself and said, "Do not worry, Don Alejandro. Your efforts have borne fruit. Señor Santiago is getting daily reports on your decline into despair and I know that he will make another offer to you tomorrow. You will not return to the pueblo, but remain here at the hacienda and prepare to receive him."

"How do you know this?" asked Don Alejandro. "Tell me." This last was not a request.

Deciding to indulge his father in deference to all the misery he was going through, Zorro began to speak. "I have been watching the Magistrado since we began our little plan, just as I have been watching you," he said, noting Don Alejandro's raised eyebrows at this admission. He continued. "Tonight I attended a very interesting meeting between Señor Santiago and his cohort, a Señor Lozano, the merchant. You were the main topic of conversation, Señor . . . ."

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

There was a rap on the door. Santiago looked up from the documents he was reading and said, "Who is it?"

"Lozano," said the voice behind the door.

"Come in."

Lozano came in out of the darkness. The sun had set almost an hour before. Zorro stole up to the window and crouched down to look within the Magistrado's office. The curtains were drawn, but the window was open to let in the breeze. He could see and hear everything clearly through the curtain as he pushed it aside with his hand.

Santiago said, "You were not followed?"

"No, Señor. I made sure I was alone. The plaza is empty," said Lozano. At the window, Zorro just smiled.

"Well check again," said Santiago, as he returned to perusing his papers. "I don't want any eavesdroppers."

Quickly, Zorro ducked down into the stairway, keeping out of sight. Lozano came out onto the balcony and looked around. Satisfied that there was no one about, he went back into the Magistrado's office. Zorro quietly resumed his post by the window.

"No one is around," said Lozano.

"Good. Now tell me, how is the old man tonight?" Santiago asked, tossing his pen on the desk and leaning back in his chair, his black eyes unfathomable in the candle light.

"He is worse than usual, Señor. He is drinking more and crying more about his lost son and how he cannot escape being reminded of him everywhere he goes. He drank at least four bottles of wine since he came to the tavern this afternoon and has just ordered another one."

"What did you find at the hacienda?"

"I arrived there just after Don Alejandro left for the pueblo this afternoon, Your Excellency. It is like a ghost house. Most of the servants seem to be gone and there were only two older vaqueros working on the place. I did not see any of the others. There is work left undone and everything is in disarray. As though de la Vega does not care anymore. I spoke to the vaqueros and they said that they had only seen Don Alejandro when he ordered his horse to be saddled in order to go into town. They are of the opinion that he is slowly losing his mind. They think he is tearing himself apart over having been betrayed and dishonored by a traitorous son and the loss of any heirs for his rancho. He feels like a failure. What time he does not spend at the tavern, he spends in his library drinking and staring into the fire, and he barely eats anything."

Santiago nodded as he absorbed this information. "Then it is time to make the offer again. I will ride out to the de la Vega hacienda again tomorrow. It would seem that our man is on the verge of cracking like an egg. Either he will accept my offer or he will eventually kill himself with his own despair and then I will acquire the hacienda without his opposition. But, I want this to be over soon. If he does not give me what I want, I may have to hasten the old man's demise myself. I am a patient man, but I must topple de la Vega in order to set up the rest of the hacendados to fall. De la Vega has always been the key to this whole operation. Without his leadership, the others will be more willing to sell when I bring pressure on them."

"What are your orders, Señor?" asked Lozano.

"You are dismissed for the night. Bring our horses to the plaza at ten o'clock in the morning and we will ride out to the de la Vega hacienda."

Lozano executed a bow to show his understanding and left the office. Zorro just had time to duck around the corner of the building as he watched Lozano descend the stairs and walk across the plaza.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

"And that is when I left the pueblo and came here," said Zorro finishing his story. "I wanted to warn you that Santiago would be coming and tell you what you should do."

Don Alejandro bristled a bit. He was still not used to deferring to a younger man and being told what to do. But then he shrugged mentally and decided that he had come this far, he would see it through. "Very well," he said. "What is it that you want me to do?"

"You will listen to Santiago's offer. You will negotiate with him on the price. Get him to double it if you can. It will still be a bargain to him and I believe he will agree. Then find something to become angry about."

"Angry?"

"Yes. You have a certain, 'em, . . . shall we say . . . 'reputation' for having a quick temper, Señor," said Zorro smiling. Don Alejandro glared at him. "In your present condition, being quick to anger will not be unusual."

"What should I become angry about?"

"It does not matter. You are not supposed to be completely rational in your current state of mind, so you can pick anything you wish. The point is to become angry and send Santiago away without closing the bargain. But his offer will still be on the table."

"What will all this accomplish?"

"Señor, we wish to create a situation that will make Santiago want to come to us in San Pedro. After your visit with the Magistrado tomorrow, you will seclude yourself here at the hacienda. On the following morning, you will throw some things in a valise and ride to San Pedro. You will make sure the servant or the vaqueros who remain hear you make comments about how you cannot stay in this house any longer and how you cannot abide staying in Los Angeles. Let them know that you are going to San Pedro. You will go to the third house from the dock, the one with a red door, and that is where you will stay. I have made all the arrangements. There is a small tavern nearby. You will spend a great deal of time there, drinking and continuing to tell your tale of woe to those who will listen."

Don Alejandro felt he had to speak up. "Señor Zorro, I do not know how much longer I can keep up this charade. Drinking so much cheap wine is making me ill. The innkeeper does not think I know when he switches wine on me, but it is barely better than vinegar. And I am tired of all this waiting around. I feel that I need to be doing something to bring my son back home to me."

Zorro felt sympathy for Don Alejandro. "But you are doing something, Don Alejandro," he said. "You are setting Santiago up for the fall. We will soon have him right where we want him. He will know where you have gone and will have you watched. After two days, send a messenger to him in Los Angeles saying that you are now willing to entertain his offer, but that you cannot bear to enter Los Angeles again. Tell him that if he wishes to consummate the sale, he will have to come to San Pedro. You will meet him at midnight in the house where you will be staying. Then, Señor, we will spring our trap."

"What do you plan to do?" asked Don Alejandro.

"Why, I will be bringing Judge Vasca to the meeting place to hear Señor Santiago's confession, of course," said Zorro jauntily.

"Oh, of course," said Don Alejandro with a snort. "And he will just come with you, a wanted criminal."

Zorro grinned. "I can be very persuasive, Señor."

"Humph," said Don Alejandro. "I suppose you are at that. Look what you have me doing," he said, as he looked down at his wine stained clothing.

Zorro laughed.

Don Alejandro could not help but smile wanly at Zorro. The masked man's laugh was infectious. Then he sobered. There was something else he wanted to know. "Tell me, Señor Zorro. My son. Can you tell me if he is well? Is he safe?"

Zorro became serious also. How should he answer his father? With the truth, of course. "Sí, Don Alejandro," he said. "Your son is as well as I am. As to his safety, that remains to be seen. At the moment, he is safe, but I cannot guarantee that it will always be so. Not until the Magistrado is shown to be a false accuser and Judge Vasca overturns the conviction of Diego as a traitor and rescinds the sentence."

"Can I see him?" asked Don Alejandro hopefully. "I want to see him so much."

Zorro just shook his head no for he dared not speak at the moment. He saw the disappointment in Don Alejandro's slumping shoulders. Clenching his teeth against his own emotions, he finally said. "It would not be safe. You are constantly being watched. If anyone should see him, he might be captured and killed as a convicted traitor before we can complete our plans. We dare not take that chance."

"But you are able to come and go without being seen, Señor Zorro. Why cannot Diego come in the same manner?" asked Don Alejandro.

"Diego is not me, Señor," said Zorro gently. "He does not have . . .shall we say, . . . my abilities. No, the risk is too great."

Don Alejandro was silent for a time. Then he looked up at Zorro and said, "Could you at least take a message to him?" At Zorro's nod of assent, he said, "Will you tell him that I love him?"

"Sí," said Zorro, his voice breaking on that one little word. He had to leave, and now. If he stayed any longer, it would not be as Zorro. Already, the heart of Diego that lived within Zorro was overflowing with the emotions of the moment. He knew his father loved him, but it was something else again to hear him actually say it. Of its own volition, his hand came to rest upon Don Alejandro's shoulder. When his voice would work again, he said, "I believe I can speak for Diego. Please know that, even with all that has happened, he has never doubted your love for him for a moment."

Don Alejandro placed his hand over the gloved hand of Zorro and said, "Graciás, Señor. You have given me the courage and strength to go on."

Zorro pulled away slowly, reluctantly. "I must go now, Señor de la Vega. The hardest part is yet to come, but together we will see it through. You will see your son a free man once again." With a swirl of his cape, he was gone, closing the door silently behind him.

Don Alejandro lay back upon his bed and pulled a quilt over himself. He still felt ill, but he ignored his discomfort for the moment. He thought about his meeting with Zorro, playing out in his mind just how his encounter with Santiago would go tomorrow. He had to admit to himself that Zorro was right in that he had a rather quick temper. He would have to hold himself back tomorrow, or he was liable to go too far with his anger. His right hand closed unconsciously into a fist. He would like nothing better than to strangle Santiago for the deliberate and malicious act of framing Diego as a traitor. But if he did that, then Diego could never be cleared of the charges against him. No, they needed Santiago alive for now. Don Alejandro would do exactly as Zorro had asked though he was still not clear as to how Zorro proposed to get Santiago to confess before Judge Vasca. They could not use force or coercion in order to gain a confession. Judge Vasca would never accept a confession made under duress. He sighed. He would just have to trust that Zorro knew what he was doing.

Turning on his side and pulling the quilt around him, Don Alejandro found himself wondering about this Zorro again. Wondering how he came and went like a ghost, seeming to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He found it a little embarrassing to imagine Zorro concealed somewhere in the tavern watching his performance. He'd had to swallow his dignity to do what he had to do and having the smiling outlaw spying on him was almost too much. But then, he took comfort from the fact that Zorro was staying nearby in case he was needed. Just as he had done in the past. But he would be alone when he went to San Pedro, for Zorro would have to go and bring back Judge Vasca. Mentally, he shook his head, wondering, not for the first time, just what he had gotten himself into. But then he reconsidered, just as he had so many times in the last few days. Zorro's methods might be unorthodox, but no one could argue that he had not achieved results.

Then Don Alejandro's thoughts turned to Diego. Where was his only son and what was he doing now, he wondered. Zorro had spoken with such assurance about Diego's faith in his father's love. That meant Zorro must have spent some time with Diego, wherever he was. Perhaps he had Diego concealed in that cave of his. Don Alejandro had some vague recollection of Zorro's cave, but nothing specific other than the trickle of water from a small underground stream which flowed through it. He could remember lying there in pain, listening to that trickle of water while Zorro had gone to get Diego. The rest was a blur. The delirium caused from his wounds had kept him from noticing much of anything else. In any case, Diego was still in California despite his banishment, and he must be fairly close by, or else Zorro could not deliver his message to him. He would just have to trust Zorro to take care of Diego and protect him for now. And really, that's all he had; the trust he placed in Zorro. Zorro was his only hope.

He would have to make up for lost time with his son when this was over, he decided. He would make an effort to take interest in what his son did. There were many men who could run a rancho, or a business, or fight when the time came. But perhaps there was room in California for a man with artistic talents, one who could create beauty in the notes of a song or in the words he put down on paper. Was not the library downstairs filled with books written by men who were themselves someone else's sons? And had not he, Don Alejandro, spent many satisfying evenings reading those books? Yes, there could be great value in words written by those who understood them. Someone like Diego. Now Don Alejandro longed to see his son more than ever. He had so much he wanted to say to him.

"I must get some sleep," he mumbled to himself, as he snuggled under his quilt. "It is very late. But we will free Diego and see Santiago punished," he said to himself as a promise. He closed his eyes and with a long sigh, fell at last into an exhausted sleep.


	85. B4 Ch11: Offer Made, Not Accepted

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **11 – _Offer Made, Not Accepted_**

After leaving his father, Zorro swiftly disappeared into the highboy in the sala. Once there, he paused and leaned back against one of the stone walls, looking up at the roof of the tunnel without really seeing it. The encounter with his father had left him drained. It had always been difficult to keep Zorro's secret from his father. At first, having Zorro be so mysterious was a way to help defeat the nefarious plans of Capitán Monastario without involving his father. Once Zorro was declared an outlaw, it became even more necessary to keep his identity hidden. If it could be proved that Don Alejandro knew Zorro's identity, he could be tried for knowingly harboring an outlaw. This, Diego could not permit. It was also Diego's opinion that if his father ever found out he was Zorro, a man of action and not the soft poet he appeared to be, his father would be looking to him to meet any trouble head on just as he, himself, would have done. And this was not Zorro's way. Zorro was effective because of his mysterious nature. No one could say when he would come or go, and no one could predict exactly what he would do. In Zorro, Diego had found a way to confound those who twisted the law for their own purposes, thus preventing them from accomplishing their misguided goals.

Pushing off from the wall, Zorro strode down the tunnel, pushing his hat back on his shoulders and taking off his mask and head cloth. Pulling off his gloves as he entered the cave, Diego thought lovingly of his bed upstairs in the hacienda as he looked at the makeshift bed Bernardo had made for him. It might have been all right if it weren't for the lumps he never could seem to remove. He smiled ruefully at Bernardo, who was already sleeping peacefully on his own bed made of straw. Rough bedding did not seem to bother the faithful servant. In the subdued light of the lantern Bernardo had thoughtfully left for him, Diego finished changing out of Zorro's costume, laying the pieces on the bench near his bed. Pulling his night shirt on over his head, he shivered a bit in the coolness of the cavern and quickly got under the blankets. Raising up on his elbow, he leaned over and blew out the lantern's flame.

Lying there in the darkness, he reviewed his plans for the next few days. He would not be able to shadow Don Alejandro in San Pedro as he had been doing in Los Angeles. He had to reach Judge Vasca in time and return with him to San Pedro. From the Magistrado's papers, he knew that Vasca would be in San Juan in another day. It would take Zorro at least a day and a night to reach San Juan and "persuade" the man to come with him. Then he would have to travel only by night until he could bring Vasca to San Pedro. Regretfully, his father would have to take care of himself for all that time. Moving his father to San Pedro was as much of a delaying tactic as it was a strategic move. It would take Santiago by surprise and it would take two or three days for him to receive reports from his operatives and decide what he was going to do. Santiago would not move before he was sure he had all the facts. It was this delay that would give Zorro time to retrieve Vasca.

Rolling onto his back, Diego clasped both hands behind his head as he thought about his identity problem. It was different when it was just he and Bernardo who had to place themselves in danger in order to do what they must. But when he had to use his father as the bait to trap Santiago, he worried constantly about the older man's safety. He loved his father and would never forgive himself if anything should happen to him because of a failing on his part to keep him safe. He had not gotten much rest these last few days as he tried to maintain a watch on his father's progress and monitor Santiago at the same time. Sometimes he found that he was more worried about what his father might do if he lost his temper than anything Santiago might try. So far, Santiago had been patient with Don Alejandro, but his patience was coming to its end. And, as he knew very well, Don Alejandro's patience was also wearing thin. He smiled wryly at that thought.

But keeping his secret hidden was not easy. There was this need within Diego to find approval in his father's eyes, which any son would have. He longed for his father to be proud of him. Tonight, Don Alejandro's declaration of love for his son went a long way toward filling that need. Again, Diego let Don Alejandro's words warm his heart. _"Will you tell him that I love him?"_ his father had said. This was the first time since his return from Spain that Diego had received such a sentiment from his father even though it was delivered in the third person. He would just lay aside the problem of his secret for now. With the words from his father running through his mind and heart, Diego turned on his side and fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

The next morning, Don Alejandro made his appearance in the main house. Old Juan was surprised to see his patrón so early. Of late, it had not been his habit to come down for breakfast. He would have liked to suggest to Don Alejandro that it might make him feel better to bathe and change into some fresh clothes, but one look from his master and the words died on his lips. Don Alejandro had not combed his hair or his beard, and they stuck out in different directions, giving him a rather wild appearance. Old Juan was sure that the patrón had not changed clothes in several days, the wrinkles and wine stains mute testimony to that fact. Woodenly, Don Alejandro sat down at the table in the sala and ordered something to eat. When the elderly servant inquired as to what he might like, he was told gruffly that it did not matter, just bring some food. Old Juan bowed deeply and hurried to the kitchen. The elder de la Vega just sat there staring out into the patio.

Don Alejandro ate some of the food when it was brought to him. His stomach still protested a little, but it was much calmer than it had been last night. Leaving most of the food on his plate, he just toyed with it. He was actually more hungry than he had imagined, but he was still doing his best to play the part of the grieving father which had been assigned to him. When this was over, he would enjoy a fine piece of beef, but for now he would act as though he cared nothing for food. He glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the sala. It would be a few hours before Santiago would come to the hacienda if Zorro's information was correct, and Don Alejandro had not yet found anything in which Zorro had erred. That one's ability to gather information still amazed him. Sighing, Don Alejandro rose and drifted to the door of library. He motioned for Old Juan and told him to bring a fresh bottle of wine. He could not help but notice the look of pity which crossed the old servant's face, but the man was wise enough not to say anything. Don Alejandro entered the library and sat down in the chair behind the desk.

When Old Juan brought the bottle and clean glasses, he found Don Alejandro leaning with his elbows on the desk and his hands on either side of his head as he stared at nothing. His master did not acknowledge his presence by the slightest movement. He placed the wine and glasses on the desk and quietly departed, not wishing to disturb Don Alejandro. As he closed the door, he saw the elder de la Vega rouse himself and reach for the bottle of wine. Old Juan shook his head in sadness at how low his patrón had sunk within his sorrow that he could not begin his day without a drink. He almost wept for what had been.

When Old Juan closed the door, Don Alejandro put the bottle of wine back down. He was not the slightest bit interested in drinking any wine, not even his own. He was merely continuing his charade. He sat there for a few more minutes but found that he was restless. He got up and began pacing back and forth in front of his desk. All of his emotions began swirling around in his mind and he played with all the variations he could imagine for taking his revenge upon the Magistrado. He seethed with his righteous anger at what the man had done to Diego, and by extension, to himself, by leading him to believe that his own son was a traitor.

He remembered Don Alfredo and little Eduardo who had been used in Santiago's plans. And then there was the delicate and defenseless Gracilia who had been murdered by the false Zorro at the word of the Magistrado. His hands clenched over and over with his anger as he paced. He had suppressed a great deal of his angry emotions over the last few days since his decision to go along with Zorro and his plans. He'd had to in order to play his part as the devastated and humiliated father of a traitor. But now that his mind was clearing somewhat from the wine induced fog, he found that his temper was staking its claim to his thoughts.

He stopped by the corner of his desk and slammed his fist down, rattling the wine bottle and the glasses. Then he grabbed the edges of the desk with both hands and held on.

After a moment, he straightened and looked around. He was still angry, but he knew that he had to take hold of himself. Zorro was counting on him to carry off the meeting with Santiago today in such a manner that Santiago would be none the wiser as to Don Alejandro's true emotional state. _But by the Saints,_ thought Don Alejandro as he looked at the closed door of the library. _What I wouldn't give to have a sword in my hand when he comes through that door._ Sighing, he looked at the wine bottle on the desk. He picked it up and poured a half glass of wine and then walked over to the fireplace. Grimacing for the waste of a good wine, he poured most of the rest into the ashes of the fireplace and stirred them around. Then he replaced the bottle on the table. This should make it appear to the Magistrado that he had been drinking all morning. He then settled into the chair behind his desk to wait. If there was one thing he did not like in this whole affair, it was the eternal waiting.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Santiago pulled up at the de la Vega hacienda and dismounted. He handed the reins of his horse to Lozano who had ridden with him. Dusting himself a bit, he settled his hat and his sword more comfortably as he waited. When Lozano was ready, they both entered the patio of the hacienda. There seemed to be no one about. Santiago glanced at Lozano and they proceeded to the front door of the house. Santiago removed the glove from his right hand and knocked at the door. He was just about to knock once again when the door opened and the old servant, whom he recognized from his previous visits, looked up at him.

"May I help you?" Old Juan inquired.

"Yes, you may," said Santiago. "Please be so good as to inform Señor de la Vega that the Magistrado has come to call upon him."

Old Juan hesitated and glanced back inside the house with apprehension. He was not at all certain that Don Alejandro would be receptive to guests, even such important ones as this.

"Is there something wrong?" inquired Santiago.

"No, Your Excellency, no," said the elderly servant. "Please, come in. I will inform the patrón that you are here."

"Graciás," said Santiago. Both he and Lozano entered the sala. Old Juan bowed to them and then went and knocked timidly on the door to the library before he went in, leaving Santiago and Lozano alone in the sala.

Santiago looked about. "See, Lozano? What I have told you about this place?" he said. He walked over and ran his hand lovingly over the surface of the piano. Then he turned to look at the other furnishings. "I will, of course, get rid of that highboy there, it is much too massive for this room, but otherwise, a new carpet and a fresh coat of paint will make this room over into something quite grand. Don't you think?" Lozano looked around appreciatively as he nodded his agreement with the Magistrado.

Behind the highboy, Diego glanced at Bernardo, rather indignant that the man should be making such statements in his own home. But Santiago had done much worse things than rearranging furniture, as Diego was well aware. Bernardo made a sign that Santiago's head was swelling with his arrogance. Diego smiled appreciatively. Then they could hear that Old Juan had come back.

"Please, Your Excellency. You may enter," he said. Diego looked at Bernardo and motioned for him to follow. Quickly, they made their way to the portion of the secret passages that ran behind the library wall. Diego pushed aside the little flap that covered the peephole. He and Bernardo crowded close so that they could both hear.

Don Alejandro stood and swayed slightly as the two men came down the stairs into the library. "Your Excellency," he said, drawing himself up to meet them. He looked at Lozano.

"Oh, I met Señor Lozano riding along the road and he made an inquiry concerning your health, Don Alejandro. I hope you do not think it an imposition that I invited him to accompany me here?" said Santiago with all the politeness he could muster.

"Señor," said Don Alejandro with a bow to Lozano.

"Don Alejandro," said Lozano, bowing back.

Santiago could see that everything reported to him concerning the condition of the old don was correct. He had obviously been drinking this morning as evidenced by the open bottle of wine and the half empty glass on the desk. Don Alejandro's appearance was hardly better than that of the town drunk. A far cry from the neat and trim appearance he had always sported before this whole affair. Carefully schooling his face, Santiago let himself enjoy what he was seeing.

"Why have you come, Excellency?" asked Don Alejandro bluntly. He was in no mood to be barely more than civil to the man. _"Become angry,"_ Zorro had said. Well, it would be all that he could do not to strangle the man with his bare hands, but he would do his best to contain himself. He did not think Zorro would want him to display his anger quite yet. He must hear Santiago out.

"It has been some days since my last visit, and I just wanted to see how you were doing, Don Alejandro," said Santiago. "Everyone is worried about you, Señor. As I said, even Señor Lozano here was making inquiries about you. I have come here to renew my offer to help you in any way I can. I'm sure you remember our last conversation?"

"Sí," said Don Alejandro slowly, as if having difficulty remembering.

Santiago smiled. "You perhaps remember the offer which I made on that occasion? That offer still stands. You said that you would think about it."

"I have thought about it," said Don Alejandro, with a little testiness creeping into his voice. "I do not believe that it is a fair offer."

"In what way, may I inquire?" said Santiago. Don Alejandro glanced at Lozano. Santiago saw this and said, "Señor Lozano. This little matter is between Don Alejandro and me. Would you be good enough to wait outside for me? I should not be long."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Lozano. Bowing to Don Alejandro, he said, "Señor?" Then he turned and left the room.

Diego pointed, and Bernardo set off through the tunnels to see where Lozano might be going. Then Diego resumed listening.

Bernardo shadowed Lozano through the passages and saw him quietly check out each room on the ground floor of the hacienda. He did not touch anything, but he looked everywhere. Then he went out the back door and seemed to be taking inventory of the back courtyard and the stables. He looked over the horses in the corral and even inspected the saddles and other tack stored in the outbuildings. When he came back in, he went briefly down into the wine cellar before coming back up again. Then he went out into the patio where he sat down on the bench that encircled the tree. He looked up at the rooms upstairs, but he did not venture up to inspect them. He waited for Santiago. Bernardo scratched his head as to what the man might have been doing and then decided that Lozano was merely taking an inventory of Don Alejandro's possessions for Santiago's benefit. He narrowed his eyes at the man. As Lozano did not seem to have anything else on his mind but to wait for the Magistrado, Bernardo slipped back through the tunnels to where Diego was watching the events in the library.

Don Alejandro had watched as Lozano left the room. He sat down into his chair wearily, as if he did not have the strength to stand. He did not offer a chair to Santiago. Let him stand for once, he thought. He took the glass of wine and drank. The last thing he wanted was wine, but the good de la Vega vintage did not seem to upset his stomach. For that, he was grateful.

Santiago watched coolly. The old man was positively breaking down into little pieces, he thought to himself. He was but a pale shadow of the robust landholder he had met when he first came to Los Angeles. "Señor?" he said.

"Um, . . . what?" said Don Alejandro, looking a little lost. "Did you say something?"

"We were speaking of my last offer to you, Don Alejandro," said Santiago, trying to be patient with the man. "The offer concerning the rancho."

Don Alejandro nodded thoughtfully as he took another drink of wine. "Yes, yes, I remember now," he said. "You offered ten thousand pesos for all this." Don Alejandro waived his arm to indicate the rancho. He shook his head. "I don't know, Excellency. I don't know . . . ." he trailed off.

"You don't know what?" prompted Santiago.

Don Alejandro frowned. "I want to take you up on your offer, but, . . . but, my holdings are worth a great deal more than ten thousand pesos. We have been three generations building this rancho and I cannot see parting with it for ten thousand pesos. You can understand, can you not, Your Excellency?"

"What will satisfy you, Don Alejandro?" said Santiago, trying not to appear too eager. "As I have said, I am not a rich man. But I have some jewels that I can sell and perhaps I could raise a few more thousand pesos if that will help."

"I think you must double your offer, Señor Magistrado," said Don Alejandro. He shook his head. "I cannot believe that I am even entertaining the thought of selling my very home, but if I do, I must have at least twice the amount you first offered." He drained the last of the wine in his glass and poured the remaining contents of the bottle into the empty glass.

Santiago was willing to pay twice that yet again to own the de la Vega rancho and make it his own. At forty thousand pesos, this place and all of its assets were worth even four times as much. He looked around at the library and fastened his eyes upon the hundreds of books lining the shelves. Books soon to be his. A house soon to be his. A rancho soon to be his. He looked back at Don Alejandro and said with a smile, "Señor de la Vega. You will not regret this. You can take the money and you can leave California and all the unpleasant memories behind. I want this rancho very much. You ask me to stretch my accounts to the limits, but I will agree to meet your price, . . . "

Before he could finish, Don Alejandro slammed the empty wine bottle down upon the desk. "Leave my unpleasant memories behind?" he nearly shouted. Santiago took a step back and grasped the hilt of his sword more tightly before he made himself stand calmly. Don Alejandro stood, his red-rimmed eyes flaring in their anger. "How can you say I can leave my memories behind? I have tried to drown my memories in that," he pointed to the wine, "but they haunt me. They haunt me day and night. Money will not slay the memories, Señor!"

Don Alejandro ran his hand through his hair several times. "Where can I go that I do not see my humiliation in every face that turns to look at me? Where, Señor?"

Behind the wall, Bernardo had rejoined Diego, hearing most of Don Alejandro's outburst. "Don't overdo it, Father," Diego muttered quietly beneath his breath.

"Calm yourself, Don Alejandro," said Santiago, who was now concerned that the old don would not sell to him. Confound the old man. He'd almost had the man right where he wanted him and had let him slip away. He could see the older man's chest heaving with his emotions. "Please, be calm. I did not mean to disturb you by my statements. I merely wished to . . . ."

"I think you had better leave, Señor Magistrado," said Don Alejandro sternly, pointing to the door. "I do not wish to discuss this any further."

Santiago looked at Don Alejandro for a moment, considering whether or not to try the purchase offer once again. "All right, Don Alejandro, I will go," he agreed. "But please. Do not refuse to consider my offer. If you should change your mind, you have only to send for me and I will come at once. Day or night, it will make no difference. Remember, my only wish is to help you."

"To help yourself to my rancho," snorted Don Alejandro, more under his breath than to Santiago. He pulled himself up short and covered his remark by picking up the glass of wine and taking a drink. He glared again at Santiago. "Your offer is on the table, Señor Magistrado," he growled. "Now, please. Go."

To himself, Santiago excused Don Alejandro's outbursts and remarks because of the extreme emotional state the man was in. He was unhappy that he had not been able to get Don Alejandro's signature on the legal documents, but he still had confidence that one way or another he would be the new owner of Rancho de la Vega. Don Alejandro was not far from cracking like an egg. If he kept on drinking as much as he had been these last weeks, sooner or later Santiago would wear him down and Don Alejandro would sign. However, Santiago found himself becoming somewhat impatient. He looked at the library once again and considered the rest of the hacienda. He would be glad to move his personal residence out here and get away from the final residue of his own memories of Gracilia. It would not do to bring his new wife into the same house where his former wife had spent the last few miserable months of her life. No, that would not do at all. But for now . . . .

Santiago bowed, and said, _"Con permisso?"_ and he turned to leave. Don Alejandro did not make any move to escort him out of the house, so Santiago had to let himself out. He met Lozano under the tree in the patio. Seeing the question in Lozano's eyes, he said, "Not yet. But he will sell. It will take just a little more time, that is all."

"Sí, Magistrado," said Lozano, as he fell in beside Santiago.

"What did you find?" asked Santiago, as they went to their horses.

"Everything is as you said it would be, Excellency. Everything is still in place, just in disarray as there is no one to take care of things. The wine cellar is still fully stocked and the household goods have not been removed."

"How odd," mused Santiago as he mounted his horse. "Where else would you find such a thing, Lozano? Don Alejandro is almost beyond caring about his rancho and runs off all of his servants, yet none of them steal him blind. In other cases such as this, there would hardly be anything of value left when the servants were through with it. I must find these servants, Lozano. They shall work for me and then I will not have to worry about theft in my own house, eh?" Santiago smiled. Then the two of them rode for Los Angeles.

Back in the library, Don Alejandro was going over the Magistrado's visit in his mind once again. Had he done all that the masked man had asked? He felt that he had. He looked around the room and wondered if Zorro was going to make an appearance. Had he somehow been here to see for himself without being seen? Don Alejandro waited, expecting to see Zorro appear out of thin air. But he did not. What was he supposed to do now, he wondered. He waited some more. Finally he grew frustrated.

"If you are here, Señor Zorro, make yourself known," he said out loud, and then he felt a little foolish. It was plain to see that Zorro was not here. He must have been so sure of how things were going to turn out he had seen no need to come. At least, that is what Don Alejandro was now choosing to believe. Don Alejandro had made Santiago double his offer and he had left the offer on the table just as Zorro had wanted. Now, the next step was to lure Santiago to San Pedro by following Zorro's instructions. He would pack up and go to San Pedro on the morrow. Still, he rather wished that Zorro would make an appearance. Then perhaps he would not feel so alone.


	86. B4 Ch12: Bernardo Plays a Part

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **12 – _Bernardo Plays a Part_**

Behind the library wall, Diego let the flap cover the peephole and then motioned for Bernardo to follow him. When they were well away from the library, he said with a smile, "Perhaps we shall have to seek a position for my father with the Royal Theater in Madrid, eh?" Bernardo smiled and nodded his agreement. Diego chuckled, as they continued through the tunnels heading toward the cave.

"After this performance, I will not doubt that my father can be as fine an actor as any on the stage." In a more serious tone he asked, "What did Señor Lozano do?" Bernardo made as if he was peering into things and looking around corners. "Ah, he was snooping," said Diego. Bernardo nodded and then made a counting motion on his fingers. He pointed to the table and chairs in the cave, the wine bottles, and then made the signs for horses. "So, he was taking an inventory for Señor Santiago," said Diego, nodding his head. "He did nothing else?" Bernardo shook his head no. "So, Señor Santiago grows overconfident, taking inventory of my father's things even before he has title to the property," said Diego. "We shall see about that." The two of them entered the cave which had become their home.

"Very well," said Diego. "We are well on our way. Señor Santiago will stop at nothing to go to my father when he is summoned to San Pedro. He wants this hacienda very much. But now, to our plans. Judge Vasca will be in San Juan for a trial which he will be conducting there. This I saw in his letter to Señor Santiago when I looked through his papers. I must go and fetch the good judge and bring him to San Pedro. We will only be able to travel at night, and so I will need a place to shelter during the day. Tonight, you shall go with me, driving one of our carriages from the hacienda. It will be a long trip for you and you will have to go part of the way there and back alone. There will be a certain amount of danger for you." Bernardo nodded, but indicated he was ready to do whatever he could to help.

"Good, my friend," said Diego. "There are two places where I can shelter Judge Vasca during the daylight hours. An old shack in the hills, two hour's ride from San Juan, and a cave in the rocks near San Pedro. It is near the water, but it is well hidden." Bernardo looked a question.

"How did I know of these places?" guessed Diego. Bernardo nodded. Diego shrugged a little. "It could be that I have been many places you do not know about, eh? Some of them even before I returned from Spain." Diego smiled at Bernardo. "I found the cave when I was fourteen or so. I was bored with my father's negotiations in San Pedro when he was arranging for the shipment of hides. I went exploring." He continued. "The shack I found on one of my sojourns as Zorro. It has long been abandoned and it will do nicely for a hiding place. That is where I want you to take the carriage and leave it. I will go with you as far as the cave, it is impossible to find it in the dark unless you have been there, but you will have to follow a map the rest of the way to the shack. We will need to leave some provisions in the cave along with some weapons. I hope we will not need the pistols and muskets, but we must be prepared." Bernardo nodded somberly. Then he made a sign to ask where Diego was going to be.

"I am going to take from the Magistrado's office the secret papers which I told you about," said Diego. "I could not take them before because I did not want him to discover them missing in case he should look for them." Bernardo nodded. "But now I need to secure them as further evidence against our Magistrado." Bernardo questioned Diego. "I know, the plan is to get Santiago to confess to the whole set up in front of Judge Vasca. But I also know that the judge will be glad to get his hands on the material. It will be further proof to show to the governor, who will be hard to sway, even with Judge Vasca's testimony. Our Magistrado has secured the Viceroy's favor and the governor himself holds Señor Santiago in the highest regard. He may even have him in mind as the next governor of California." Bernardo's eyebrows rose. Diego continued, "But those papers, along with Vasca's testimony, should be enough to convince him." Bernardo nodded thoughtfully. "So, I will take you to the cave and then I must come back to get the papers," Diego said. "I will check on my father one more time and then I will set out for San Juan."

Slapping Bernardo fondly on the shoulder, he said, "But now, let us practice our fencing. We have plenty of time until the sun sets and we start out for San Pedro. Watch yourself, for today I will not be holding back." He smiled as Bernardo put his hands on his hips. Then, with an imaginary sword, Bernardo began to assail Diego, breaking through Diego's laughing defenses time and again. "All right! All right," laughed Diego as he held his hands up against the assault. "I yield!" Bernardo drew himself up and made a grand salute with his imaginary sword, sheathing it with in imaginary flourish. He bowed. He had to scramble though, in order to catch the hilt of the real sword which Diego tossed in his direction. "On guard, o' so clever one," said Diego with a smile. He waited until Bernardo assumed his stance and then they crossed swords.

Their workout was quite satisfactory in Diego's opinion. Bernardo was coming along nicely and was a good partner with whom Diego could practice. But then there came a point when Bernardo was clearly out of his league. This was when Diego began to practice by himself.

Bernardo retired to the sidelines, wiping the perspiration from his brow. He watched in fascination as Diego went through his exercises. Diego had become completely focused now, and his efforts flowed smoothly from one form to another. Bernardo could see that Diego had regained much, if not all, of his former expertise with the sword. He was quick and his footwork was sure. The blade moved in a blur of motion, too quick for the eye to see easily. His strength and stamina seemed not to be diminished. Of course, the final test would come if he had to face Santiago one on one. Privately, Bernardo was of the opinion that, at some point, it would come down to just the two of them, Santiago and Diego or rather, Zorro. Or . . . would it perhaps be Diego after all? As Bernardo watched Diego practice, he could only wonder at the answer to that question. Whichever of Diego's two personas was the one who would meet the serpent magistrado, the loyal servant could only pray that his friend would be the victor. Santiago was a very deadly and formidable swordsman; more dangerous than any Diego would have ever faced in his life, for, in Bernardo's opinion, the two men were very equally matched. Diego would have to dig down deep within himself to find the extra bit of strength and willpower he would need to defeat such a man. Still, watching Diego, Bernardo decided that his young master would find what he needed when the time came. After all, he was El Zorro.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

When Santiago rode back into the pueblo with Lozano, he noticed that Don Alfredo Caldón and Don Tomas Yorba were talking in front of Señor Gregorio's mercantile. Don Alfredo was there with a couple of his vaqueros, who seemed to be acting the part of body guards for the don. They kept their hands on their pistols and looked around suspiciously at everyone as a wagon was being loaded with supplies. Santiago pointed this out to Lozano and smiled. Don Alfredo was scared and that was good. He decided to ride over and greet the two dons. Lozano rode on to his shop as though he and the Magistrado had just happened to meet on the road coming into Los Angeles. He dismounted and went into the shop.

"Don Alfredo. Don Tomas. How good to see you," Santiago said, as he dismounted in front of the mercantile. Looking at the wagon being loaded, he said, "You have come for supplies, I see."

"Yes, Your Excellency," said Don Alfredo crisply.

Santiago knew that Don Alfredo felt uneasy in his presence. After all, it was Santiago who had called upon him to testify against the son of his dearest friend. "You seem to come well-armed, Don Alfredo," he said, pointing to the pistol tucked into the don's banda.

"I will never go unarmed again," said Don Alfredo. "Not as long as Zorro is still free. My men are all armed and they are ready to defend my family against anyone. Zorro will not threaten my family again," he declared in his singularly monotone voice.

"Your Excellency," said Don Tomas. "We are all very concerned about this Zorro. We know the evil he can do. What news do you have of him? He seems to have vanished since the trial, for we hear nothing but rumors of his movements in the hills, and no one has actually seen him."

Santiago said, "It is my opinion, Señores, if I may say so, that we have pulled the fangs of El Zorro. At least for the time being." He saw the two men look at each other. He continued. "I believe that with the arrest and conviction of Diego de la Vega, and the confiscation and return of the money to Don Alfredo, we have disrupted for the moment his plans for the conquest of California." Santiago made a sweeping motion with his hand to encompass the vast lands all around them. "He is out there, somewhere, Señores, licking his wounds and trying to regroup. How long this will take, I cannot say, but rest assured that the military is doing all it can to track this mad animal down and kill him."

"The military has been singularly unable to find this Zorro," said Don Tomas, dryly. After a deliberate moment, he added the honorific. "Señor Magistrado."

Santiago could appreciate Don Tomas' skepticism. He smiled grimly and gripped the hilt of his sword. "You may recall that I have a personal reason to wish El Zorro dead," he said, knowing they would remember Gracilia. "We will find him and we will execute him. Justice will be served," he said with flashing eyes. Inwardly, he congratulated himself on his performance. He could see both men nodding their approval as they listened to him.

"Zorro should have been captured long ago," said Don Tomas. "We have had a succession of incompetent commandantés, none of whom was able to capture the man. I had such hopes for Capitán Hidalgo. He seemed like a true soldier. And now he is dead by the hand of the very outlaw we speak of."

Santiago was happy to have Don Tomas keep on talking. He could see the effect this was having on Don Alfredo, who was his next intended victim after this matter with Don Alejandro was concluded. He could see fear in the don's eyes, though he tried not to show it. Not fear for himself so much, but for his family. If he thought his family threatened again, would he not also be willing to sell out? Santiago suppressed a smile.

"Yes, Capitán Hidalgo will be sorely missed," he agreed. "Sergeant Garcia is a good man, but he is not of the same caliber as was Hidalgo. However, we shall have to use those resources we have at hand to take on the outlaw, I'm afraid. The military is spread thinly across California and my requests for reinforcements are being delayed."

"Does not the Governor know of our desperate situation?" asked Don Alfredo in concern.

"Perhaps it is time to reinstate the citizen's army," said Don Tomas. "I was not in favor of it when Don Alejandro proposed it before, but it did save the day when the Eagle made his evil attempt to take over California. Am I not correct, Don Alfredo?"

Don Alfredo dropped his eyes in humility as he did whenever the charge of the citizen's army was brought up. He did not speak.

"By the way, Your Excellency, I would like to inquire about Don Alejandro," said Don Tomas. "I have not been to the pueblo in many days and what I have heard about his condition is most disturbing. Have you spoken to him?"

"I have just come from his hacienda, Don Tomas," said Santiago, shaking his head slowly in pity. "He is not doing well, I'm afraid. This whole affair has taken a great toll upon him. I think he may be considering selling his rancho and leaving California."

Don Alfredo clenched his jaws. "Do you know this for certain?" he asked, his brow furrowed as he gazed intently at Santiago.

"I would not wish to start any rumors, Señores," cautioned Santiago. "Don Alejandro has suffered a great shock. He may not be thinking clearly. Please, do not repeat what I have told you. I want to do nothing to add to Don Alejandro's misery." There. Don Alfredo would never be able to get the idea out of his head that Don Alejandro was going to sell out no matter what else Santiago might say. He could see it in the don's eyes. This was going quite well.

At that moment, the clerk from the mercantile came up and wished to speak with Don Alfredo. "If you will excuse me, Your Excellency," he said with a small bow.

"Of course, Don Alfredo. Do not let me keep you from your business. I have some things which I must attend to as well." He returned the small bow and said, "Señores?" as he turned to leave.

"Your Excellency," said Don Tomas in return.

Santiago walked away feeling quite good. Don Alfredo was as good as gone from his hacienda. All he needed was for someone dressed in a black mask and cape to jump out from behind a bush and he would be gone. Without Don Alejandro to be his backbone, he was too fearful of his family's safety to stay and make a stand of it with another 'citizen's army'. No, he would rather pull out and travel to another place and start over. This suited Santiago just fine.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Bernardo shifted and tried to adjust to the vaquero's clothing he was wearing as a disguise. He was also sporting a thick and healthy mustache made from some of Tornado's tail, which drooped down on either side of his mouth. This made him itch, but he dared not rub the thatch beneath his nose for fear of it coming loose. The glue they had used was better than candle wax, but not by that much. Bernardo was driving the carriage along the road to San Pedro, hoping no one would recognize him if they should meet anyone. Zorro was shadowing his progress by riding a hundred yards or so off of the road through the trees and the brush. One could see his shadow if one knew just where to look. This gave Bernardo some small measure of comfort. The hour was late. They had waited for night to fall in order to make the journey, using the concealment of the darkness to cloak their progress. There was still the danger of a lancer patrol or meeting some civilian traveler going along the road in the darkness, so they both kept a close watch.

Thankfully, they were able to come to the place just south of San Pedro where the carriage would leave the main road and head down to the cave without incident. Zorro came in closer then and rode in front of the carriage, leading the way to the cave's hidden entrance. They had to wind through several tree covered passages and make their way around some large rocks before coming to the opening. Though he could not see the water, Bernardo could hear the ocean waves on the shore some small distance away. Motioning Bernardo to drive the carriage on into the pitch black cavern, Zorro stayed behind to take a last look around to make sure that no one had seen them. Satisfied, he rode Tornado into the cave and dismounted.

"It is all right," he said into the darkness. "You can light the lantern now."

A match was struck and the lantern soon cast its warm glow over the interior of the cave. Bernardo held it up and looked around. He was impressed with the size of the cave. It was quite large enough to hold the carriage and the horses along with Tornado, and still had room to spare. He nodded to Zorro.

Zorro smiled and said, "I am glad you approve. Come, let us get about the business of concealing the supplies and then you can be on your way to San Juan and the other place." Bernardo nodded again and set the lantern down on a large rock. He began pulling out some sacks which contained food and wine and moved them to the other side of the cave while Zorro pulled out another bundle which contained two muskets and two pistols. These he took to the back of the cave near a low rock ledge. Setting them down, he went back to the carriage and took out a small shovel which he then used to dig out a shallow trench in the sand near the ledge. Carefully, Zorro placed the bundle in the trench and then turned as Bernardo brought over a sack containing the wine bottles. He enlarged the trench a bit and placed the wine in it as well. This would serve to keep the wine bottles cool. Then he covered the trench with the sand once again. Smoothing it carefully, he decided that the items were well concealed.

Meanwhile, Bernardo was pulling out a bundle of hay and some blankets from the carriage and he set about making a couple of beds from the materials. Later, horses could eat the bedding after Zorro and the judge were through using it for the day. Zorro left the cave, and when he returned some minutes later, he had an armload of firewood which he set down near the makeshift beds. Together, he and Bernardo gathered some stones and arranged them in a circle to make a fire pit.

"A palace fit for a king," said Zorro looking around. "Or a magistrate." Bernardo smiled. "Is the sack with the oats still in the carriage?" asked Zorro. Bernardo nodded. "Good. I will be needing that later. You have the map and your pistol?" Another nod. "Now, do not put yourself in danger if you can avoid it," he said to his faithful servant. "If you cannot get the carriage to the shack, then I will just find another way to transport His Excellency. I do not want you getting yourself killed, understand? I have too much time invested in you to start training another to take your place." Zorro smiled fondly at Bernardo, who smiled back.

Zorro laughed at Bernardo's appearance. The thick mustache concealed his round face quite well, but the black color was a stark contrast to his red hair. In the dark it would not matter, but here in the lantern light, it was very comical. He reached up with a gloved finger and flipped one end of the mustache as he said, "I must say that Tornado's tail looks as good on you as it does on him. Don't you agree?" He laughed at Bernardo's withering look. With the mustache and the vaquero's clothing, which was one or two sizes too large for the mozo, he had a very droll appearance.

Slapping Bernardo on the shoulder, Zorro said, "All right. Get going now." Pointing to the mustache again, he said, "I want you home before that falls off." Bernardo puffed out his lip and made the mustache bristle. Zorro laughed again and so too did Bernardo. He climbed up into the carriage and Zorro helped him to lead the horses around so that they were pointed at the cave's entrance.

"Follow me and I will lead you back to the road," Zorro said. He mounted Tornado and rode out ahead of the carriage. When they reached the road leading to San Juan, Zorro pulled up next to the carriage and said, "Stay with this road until you find the trail I have drawn on the map. Turn left there and you will follow the trail to the shack. Go with God, my friend." Bernardo nodded and gave Zorro one of his own salutes as he then urged the carriage horses on. Soon he was lost in the darkness. Zorro lingered for only a few minutes more as he dismounted and took a branch from a bush and rubbed out all the tracks made by the horses and the carriage for several yards. Then he mounted Tornado once again and headed back to Los Angeles.

Bernardo felt quite alone as he drove down the long road to San Juan now that Zorro had turned back. He was very happy to be doing something to help with his young master's plans, but he missed his companion. He peered into the darkness and listened hard. For three or four hours he saw nothing and heard less. Nothing, but the steady clopping of his own horses' hooves. There were still a couple of hours before sunrise and Bernardo hoped to be at the shack well before the sun found him on the road. He urged the horses up a rather long hill and used the opportunity to look around when they reached the top. On the road ahead, there was no one as far as he could see by the dim starlight, so he turned to look behind, along the road which he had already traveled. He was startled to see a company of soldiers riding up behind him. Panicked for a moment, he tried to decide what to do. Though they were still a little distance away, he was sure that they had already seen the carriage, therefore he could not pull off the road somewhere and hide.

Frantically, he thought. Then an idea came to him. From beneath the seat, he pulled out the sack of provisions he had brought with him for the trip. He pulled out a bottle of wine. Taking another look behind to gage the soldiers' distance, he saw with no little fear that they were quickly catching up to him. He pulled the cork from the bottle and poured some of the wine over himself. He took his pistol and placed it behind him on the seat where he could reach it easily, but where it would be out of sight. He wrapped the reins around his foot which he propped up on the front rail of the carriage. Then he leaned back in the corner of the seat and pulled his hat down over his face, cradling the bottle of wine in the crook of his arm. He closed his eyes and waited. He did not wait long, as he soon heard the sounds of the soldiers all around him.

"Alto!" cried the corporal in charge of the soldiers. "Hola, Señor! Stop the carriage, I say!" Bernardo did not make a move. The corporal motioned to two of the lancers who rode ahead and grabbed the carriage horses by the bridles and brought them to a stop.

Glaring at the man in the carriage, the corporal shouted, "You! Señor! Come down from there!" "Did you hear me?" Seeing that the driver was giving no heed to his orders, he pulled his sword and poked the man in the chest. When that got no response, he pushed the hat back from Bernardo's face with its tip. "Señor!" he yelled quite loudly. Bernardo, with his eyes closed, still did not move.

"I think he is drunk, Corporal," said one of the soldiers on the opposite side of the carriage. "He reeks of wine and look at the bottle in his arms."

The corporal leaned forward on his horse and looked closely. He, too, could smell the wine. As he was scrutinizing Bernardo's face, Bernardo shifted slightly and smiled as though having a nice dream. He suddenly let out a very loud snort and then began snoring. Disgusted, the corporal sheathed his sword with a snap.

"He _is_ drunk, Perales," he said to the other soldier. The corporal reached into the carriage and took the bottle from Bernardo after checking all of his pockets for any money. "He won't be needing this anymore," he said with a smile. To the other soldiers, he said, "Take the carriage over there under those trees and tie up the horses. Let him sleep it off where he will not be a hazard on the road. We will take this bottle of wine as his fine for driving a carriage while asleep." The other soldiers laughed.

Bernardo's carriage was soon taken off the road a little way and the horses tied. The soldiers formed up and went on their way, each taking a turn at drinking from the bottle and laughing at their good fortune. Bernardo never moved and never stopped snoring until he knew for certain that they were far away. Then he sat up and looked around. Wiping the perspiration from his brow with his handkerchief, he got down and untied the horses. He consulted his map by the small flame of a match, and decided that he would be able to turn off the main road in another half mile or so. He drove the carriage back up onto the road and continued his journey, hoping that he would not run into any more soldiers, as he did not have another bottle of wine with him.

Just as the sun was making its first faint glow on the horizon, Bernardo pulled up beside the shack. The trail, which had branched off from the main road, had been a long and torturous one. It had not been used in many years and was quite rough, but finally, thankfully, the shack had come into view. Bernardo got down and looked around. The shack seemed to barely be standing. One wall slanted out in an absurd direction from the rest. The only thing saving it from falling down was the fact that it was leaning back against the sheer face of a cliff thirty or forty feet high, which towered over the little house. A dozen yards away, to one side of the shack, a small stream tumbled down the face of the cliff and formed a brook, which ran cool and clear across a little meadow. Going to the front of the shack, Bernardo pushed the rotting cloth aside that covered the door and dusted his hands together as he stepped in and looked around inside. The room was small, with a dirt floor. There were no windows, though the sunlight could be seen creeping in through the cracks in the wall boards. There was only the one door. A bench was leaning against one wall and there was an old oak chair turned over on its side in the corner. Bernardo picked up the chair, and found that despite its appearance, it was in surprisingly good condition. He dusted it off and set it near the bench.

There were leaves and animal tracks on the floor, but there was no sort of bedding. Pursing his lips, Bernardo decided he would have to do something about that. He first went out and moved the carriage next to the shack and then unhitched the horses, leaving their harness on them. He led them to the little stream to drink. Then he tethered them nearby where they could eat some of the grasses of the meadow. He then made himself a little broom by bundling up some tree branches and he swept the floor of the shack thoroughly. Back outside, he saw that the meadow near the stream had an abundance of dried grass, which he began bringing in arm loads to spread around. He kept on until he had enough for an adequate bed. Fluffing the straw one more time, he decided he should take a little time to eat something and then begin making his way back home.

He pulled the old chair to the door and ate while looking out at the scenery. He knew that his young master had chosen this place well. No one would find him and the judge here except by accident. The shack would provide concealment and shelter at the same time. The stream and the abundant grasses were a plus. Brushing the crumbs from his clothes, Bernardo went over to the stream and drank his fill, saving the water in his canteen for the long ride home. As he gathered the horses and prepared to mount, he grimaced. He would have to ride bareback all the way. He wished now that he had thought to bring an extra saddle, but one could not think of everything. He wondered how Zorro was progressing with his part of the plan. He should be on his way to San Juan even now. He would also be riding in the daylight. Daylight was a dangerous time for a black fox to be out in the open.


	87. B4 Ch13: Players in Motion

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **13 – _Players in Motion_**

When Zorro left Bernardo, he rode back to Los Angeles, sparing Tornado as much as he could, but wasting no time. He and the black stallion had many miles to travel tonight and during the day tomorrow and on into the following night. Tornado was strong and willing beneath him and it was hard to keep him down to a ground-eating canter. The stallion wanted to run. But he yielded to his master's wishes and cantered smoothly into the night. Soon, they could see the shadows of the pueblo coming into view. It was well after two o'clock in the morning. Zorro left Tornado hidden in a dark alley near the Magistrado's house, knowing that his faithful steed would come to his whistle if he should need to make a fast getaway. He flowed up the stairs to the Magistrado's office and once again picked the lock. This time he did not need candlelight. He knew right where to find what he was seeking. He pulled the credenza out from the wall and reached behind it to pull out the leather portfolio. Then he pushed the credenza back against the wall. So far, so good.

Silently, he slipped out of the door and locked it behind him. He descended the stairs, looking around the plaza to make sure that he was not being seen by anyone. He turned to go beneath the stairs on his way back to Tornado when he stopped cold. A pair of lancers who were apparently patrolling the pueblo were walking up the street. It was so dark that they had not seen him as yet. Silently, Zorro hurried back to the stairway where he ran up six or eight steps before he had to lie down and flatten himself against the treads. The soldiers walked past the stairway, never knowing that the most famous outlaw in all California was there in the dark just a few inches from them. Zorro held his breath and moved not a muscle.

The soldiers continued on their way in the general direction of the church and Zorro breathed a silent sigh of relief. When they were gone, he got up and went back down the stairs to find Tornado in the alley. Mounting, he cautioned the stallion to be very quiet and they ghosted out of the pueblo. Soon, they were on their way to the de la Vega hacienda and Zorro's cave.

When they arrived, Zorro placed the portfolio on the table in the cave and then loosened the cinch on Tornado's saddle. He gave the horse a measure of oats. He would allow the stallion to rest for an hour or so before they continued to San Juan. Pulling the mask from his face and taking off his hat and gloves, Diego took out some paper and a pen and sat down at the table.

He had felt the need to communicate with his father as Diego. He felt that it would help Don Alejandro cope with what he must do over the next few days if he had something from his son to hold on to. He had been thinking about this for some time and had composed most of the note in his mind as he had ridden back to Los Angeles. He took the pen and began.

 _Dearest Father,  
You are constantly in my thoughts as I await word from Señor Zorro that I may return to you. He has not told me all of his plans, only that you and he are working together to expose Señor Santiago in order to clear the charges of treason against me. He also tells me that you understand now why I could not defend myself against the false charges of the Magistrado. I was thinking only of you, my Father. I love you too much to see you endangered. I may not be like the son you desired, but I would lay down my life if that is what it would take to preserve yours. _

_Señor Zorro brought me word of the message you sent to me, and it warms my heart as nothing else could do. Your words from his lips are the last ones I repeat to myself in the night before I close my eyes to sleep._

 _At present, I am constrained to rely on Señor Zorro for my concealment and safety. He has made me promise not to reveal my location. I do not know who this man is behind the mask, but I know that I trust him with my life and with yours. He is our only hope. Please do all that he asks. You can ask for no better man as a friend in our time of need._

 _I love you, my Father, and long for the day when we may be reunited._

 _Your loving son._

Diego signed the letter and blew upon it to dry the ink. Then he folded the paper in half. Taking the pen once again, he drew a bold _"Z"_ upon the outside of the letter. Then he wrote underneath, _Proceed to San Pedro as planned._ He would place the note upon Don Alejandro's pillow and then he would be on his way to San Juan to find Judge Vasca.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

The next morning, Don Alejandro awoke from a sound sleep. He had not taken any wine since the Magistrado's visit of the day before, and felt much better. His stomach did not protest as he sat up on the edge of his bed. He scrubbed his face with his hands as he sat for a moment before deciding to get up. This was when he noticed a folded piece of paper on his pillow. A smile quirked the edge of his mouth as he saw that it was from Zorro. He was getting somewhat used to the idea that the man could come and go so quietly. He picked it up and saw the note the masked man had written. He sighed. Going to San Pedro was the last thing he wanted to do, but in order to give Zorro's fantastic plan a chance to work, he would have to go along. He did not relish having to resume his performance, but he knew that he would. He would do anything to bring this to its conclusion and bring Diego back to him.

Then Don Alejandro noticed that there was another note on the inside of the folded paper, and he began to read. His eyes misted over and he was hard pressed to be able to read all of it through the tears which threatened to fall. His message had been delivered to Diego and the sentiment had been returned in equal measure. His longing to see Diego grew by the moment. And he was touched not only by his son's love for him, but also by Diego's words concerning Zorro. Two words stood out from the rest. Trust and hope. The very thoughts which had come to him concerning the masked man were the same thoughts Diego had sent to him in this letter. Yes, they both had only one man to turn to in their hour of need. El Zorro.

 _Well, Señor Zorro,_ thought Don Alejandro. _My son has told me to trust you and it seems that I must do so. I will go to San Pedro and do as you ask. For Diego is right, we have no hope except that which we place in your hands. May God grant that we are victorious and that my son is restored to me._

Don Alejandro carefully concealed Diego's letter in one of the secret compartments in his bedroom that no one, not even Diego, knew about and prepared himself to go to San Pedro. He decided he would wear fresh clothing and cleanse himself one last time. There was no knowing when he would be able to be clean again. In the dirty little town of San Pedro, it would not take long before he was looking disreputable once again. Old Juan was quite surprised when Don Alejandro called for the bath water to be drawn and clean clothing to be brought to the bathing room. Don Alejandro pretended to take no notice of this. Instead, he luxuriated in the hot water and soaked for what seemed like ages. Finally, he dried himself off and got dressed. Going back up to his room, he packed his valise with a few things and replenished his purse with pesos in order to buy his food and wine. Zorro had taken care of his accommodations. The third house from the dock with the red door, he remembered the masked man to say. He hoped it had a decent bed, not that he would be spending much time in it, but he hated lumpy beds.

Don Alejandro gathered up his cloak and valise and then went down the stairs. Only Old Juan was waiting for him in the patio. The leaves from the tree swirled around his feet in the wind, and some of its smaller branches and twigs littered the tiles. The hacienda was showing its neglect. Don Alejandro clenched his jaw and vowed as soon as this was over he would see both the hacienda and the entire rancho returned to their former condition. He was glad his dearly departed wife, God rest her soul, did not have to see any of this. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for what must follow.

Brusquely, he said, "Juan. I am leaving this place. Go and tell the vaqueros to saddle my horse."

"Leaving, Patrón?" said Old Juan uncertainly. "Are you not coming back?"

"There is nothing to come back to!" Don Alejandro snapped, resuming his role of despair. "Everything reminds me of Diego and my shame! I cannot stand to live here any longer. Go now!"

Old Juan ran to do his master's bidding. He found the two remaining vaqueros lounging just outside the stables and told them what Don Alejandro had said. The vaqueros shook their heads and felt sorry for the old patrón. One of the vaqueros, Raul, saddled the horse and the two men took it around to the front of the hacienda. Old Juan walked back through the house and out into the patio. He watched through the patio gate as Don Alejandro snatched the reins from Raul and mounted.

Old Juan ran to his master's side, grabbing the reins as he cried, "Patrón! Patrón! Where are you going? What will we do?"

"I am going to San Pedro, if you must know," growled Don Alejandro. "I will not even remain in Los Angeles where so many look upon me with pity in their eyes just as you do. Where I am reminded of Diego everywhere I look. You may stay here or go. I do not care which. Perhaps in a few days you will have a new master. Now let go of the horse!" He whipped the horse into a gallop. His heart was heavy with the words he had spoken to the men, for all of them had been loyal servants of his family for many years. But he was committed to doing what Zorro had asked of him.

Gazing down the road, the three men stood looking at the dust left hanging in the air by Don Alejandro's horse. Raul was the first one to speak. "It is just as I have said. His heart has been broken. I fear we shall never see him here again."

"Sí," said Old Juan sadly. He looked back at the hacienda. "But I am not leaving here. This is my home. And I will take care of it the best I can. Maybe the Patrón will change his mind and will return."

"I do not think so," said Gilberto, the other vaquero. "But like you, this is my home. I will stay here also. I have nowhere else to go. There are still the horses to take care of." Raul nodded in agreement. "Then we shall all stay," continued Gilberto. As one, they turned and looked down the empty road which had taken their master away from them.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Don Alejandro rode straight to San Pedro, arriving there just after noon. He pretended not to notice the looks he was getting as he walked his horse through the town. Many of the people hereabouts knew who he was, for he had been shipping his hides and tallow from this little port town for many years, and had often come down to speak to the ships' captains. The people along his path stopped what they were doing and pointed at Don Alejandro, whispering among themselves. Don Alejandro could imagine just what they were saying. _There goes the father of Diego de la Vega, the traitor._ He shivered with indignation. If only he could tell them the truth, that would make them ashamed of their whispers. But no, he must not do that. For one thing, they would not believe him because he had no proof, and for another, it would ruin all the work he had done so far to build up the image of the grieving father for the benefit of deceiving Santiago. Taking a deep breath, Don Alejandro gathered his resolve to begin his act anew.

He spotted a boy of about ten years old watching him. "You, niño. Come here!" he said brusquely. "Take my horse to the livery and see that he is taken care of." He tossed a coin to the boy. "That is for you." He tossed another one to him. "That is for my horse. Give it to the livery."

The boy bowed and smiled. "Sí, Señor!" he said, as he took the reins of Don Alejandro's horse. Don Alejandro dismounted and unhooked his valise from the saddle horn. The boy walked off leading the horse. Don Alejandro looked around and saw the wharf in the near distance. He started down the street looking for a house with a red door. He found it just where Zorro said it would be. The paint on the door was faded and peeling, but it was the only red door in the whole village. He tried the handle of the door and it opened.

Inside, the furnishings were very sparse. There seemed to be only three rooms in the house, one behind the other. The front room had faded and tattered red curtains covering the windows and there was only a bench to sit upon, shoved against one wall. There was one single wall sconce in the room, which had a left-over piece of a candle on it to provide light. A doorway, partially covered by a curtain, led into the middle room of the house. Don Alejandro pushed the faded red curtain aside and found a room of similar size as the first, which had a round table in its center. A very plain candelabra was sitting on the table with four used candles in it. Two old wooden chairs were scattered about the room, one turned over on its side in a corner. Grimly, Don Alejandro surveyed his new accommodations. There was a small inn just as one entered San Pedro which, as mean as it was, would have been luxurious compared to this place. He took off his hat and placed it on the table as he looked on at another door leading to the back room of the house. _Perhaps that is where the bed is,_ he thought to himself. He opened the wooden door and indeed found a cot in the small back room. The cot was long enough, but very narrow. Its only saving grace was that the two blankets and the pillow stacked upon one end were clean and new. Upon the pillow was a folded piece of paper.

Don Alejandro put his valise on the bed and picked up the paper. The note was unsigned, but the handwriting was familiar. It was from Zorro.

 _The accommodations are rude, Señor de la Vega, but I have chosen them for a reason. It is here that I shall bring Judge Vasca to witness the meeting between you and Señor Santiago. You will note the grating between this room and the middle one._

Don Alejandro looked around. Yes, there was an opening between the two rooms covered with some sort of wooden lattice. He returned to the note.

 _This is where we shall be after midnight on the second day from today. Judge Vasca will be able to hear all that transpires. Remember, your job is to draw Santiago out, to cause him to reveal that he was the one who framed Diego with false evidence and to reveal his reasons for doing so. Do not forget his wife's death. Santiago was responsible for that atrocity as well. His confession must be everything that Judge Vasca needs to hear. The honorable judge will then do the right thing. I am sure of it. However, I will not deceive you. This will be dangerous, Señor de la Vega. But remember, I shall be near. Continue with your charade and send your summons to Santiago on the second day. He will come. Then we shall see that justice is indeed served upon the person of the Magistrado. I promise you this upon my honor._

Don Alejandro snorted. _"Upon my honor,"_ he muttered as he reread the note. Can an outlaw have honor, he wondered. Then he decided that in this case, there was one outlaw who did possess honor. This was the reason he kept going along with the masked man's plans. In this Zorro, he had indeed found a man cloaked, not only in blackness of night, but within his own deep and abiding honor.

Don Alejandro decided that he would need to burn Zorro's note so it could not possibly fall into the hands of another. He lit a match. Then he held the corner of the note in the flame until it caught fire. He turned the paper, allowing the flame to consume the note. Just as he was about to drop it on the mud brick floor, he looked again at the handwriting on the note. Something familiar about the handwriting caught his attention. He was still trying to decide what that something was when he hissed in pain and dropped the remainder of the note on the floor where it was totally consumed. Nursing his burned fingers in his mouth, Don Alejandro had the fleeting thought that Zorro's handwriting bore a great similarity to Diego's handwriting. It was surely just a coincidence, he thought to himself. But he found himself wishing that he had brought Diego's note with him to San Pedro. Shaking the hand with the burned fingers to ease the pain, Don Alejandro decided that the similarity in handwriting just meant that Zorro was a well-educated man, just as Diego was. He shook his head. He had more important things on his mind right now than to worry about where Zorro had been educated. He must get ready to go to the tavern and take up his post. Don Alejandro picked up his hat gingerly, careful of his injured fingers, and put it upon his head, drawing the string to his chin. Taking a deep breath, he let it out in a sigh. Then he walked back through the house and out into the street.

The tavern was the same one Diego and Bernardo had visited when they first heard the rumors of Zorro's army. There were several tables set out underneath a large tree, but the actual bar was located in a small building that was only large enough to have a small fireplace, and two trestle tables with benches for furnishings. Don Alejandro chose to sit under the tree so he could see the town rather than be confined inside the building. He picked a table situated so that he would not have his back to anyone. He did not want to give any thieves a chance to sneak up on him. He ordered his first bottle of wine from the proprietor and sank into his taciturn role. It was going to be a long two days.


	88. B4 Ch14: Procuring the Magistrate

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **14 – _Procuring the Magistrate_**

Zorro rode through the countryside, avoiding the roads and ranchos along the way. Traveling by day was dangerous, but he had no choice if he was to reach San Juan in time to intercept Judge Vasca. Many miles had been added to his journey since he had to ride across the hills and valleys to avoid the well-traveled roadway, but that could not be helped. He judged it would be early morning of the next day before he would ride into San Juan. He knew the little town well, having visited Padre Rafael, the priest, many times at the mission there. Zorro smiled as he remembered the cut-throat games of chess Diego and the priest had played together. Padre Rafael was a formidable chess player and Diego did not always win those games. He usually spent a day or two with the good padre, reading books in the library or having stimulating conversations. So he knew there was an inn in the pueblo, which is where Judge Vasca would be staying. By the time Zorro arrived, Vasca should be ready to leave San Juan in order to go on to the next town in his schedule, there to conduct any trials which would be required. Zorro intended to intercept Vasca before he could go on his way and conduct him to San Pedro instead.

The judge had never met Zorro personally. The last time they were together, Vasca had been drugged by a sleeping potion given to him by Sergeant Garcia. But this time, Zorro fancied that he and the judge would become quite well acquainted. He had no means to put the judge to sleep, nor did he wish to. Judge Vasca must be awake and alert when they reached San Pedro.

Tornado snorted beneath him and Zorro looked around. In the distance, he saw a cloud of dust billowing up from the other side of some hills. The landscape around him at the moment was particularly lacking in cover except for one thicket of trees off to his right. Quickly, Zorro turned Tornado into the thicket and dismounted to stand by the stallion's head. He stroked Tornado's neck as he waited to see what was causing all of the dust. He had not long to wait. A large herd of cattle soon came pouring over one of the hills, being driven by a dozen or more vaqueros. They seemed to be coming straight toward his position. Since there was nowhere else to go without being seen, he had to remain where he was.

As he studied the situation, he realized that the cattle were not being pushed hard by the vaqueros, and he thought they were probably moving them to a new pasture with better grazing. One of the vaqueros looked familiar to him. He thought he recognized the man by the pinto horse he was riding. He looked to be the head vaquero for the rancho of Don Carlos. It would seem that these cattle belonged to Don Carlos. A taciturn man, Don Carlos nevertheless had a fine herd of cattle. Zorro looked about to see if the don was with the other riders and spotted a man sitting his horse on the top of the hill. That man must be Don Carlos. From behind the hill, another man appeared and pulled his horse to a stop beside the don.

Zorro was beginning to worry about the nearness of the herd of cattle and the vaqueros driving them. The cover here in his thicket was not so very dense and soon someone was bound to notice him and Tornado. He would not think much of the vaqueros if they did not. Their job was to protect Don Carlos' cattle and they were supposed to be alert for strangers at all times. Gathering the reins, he was just preparing to mount Tornado and make a break for it when he noticed the man who had been beside Don Carlos riding at a fast pace down the hill, making his way to the head vaquero on the pinto. Zorro paused with his hands on the saddle and his foot in the stirrup to see what developed. The two men conferred for a few moments and then the head vaquero began shouting orders. He was close enough to be heard clearly.

"Hola! Compadres!" shouted the head vaquero. "Hola! The patrón wishes the cattle to be taken to the valley by the south branch of the river! Turn them! Turn them to the east!" He waved and pointed to the east.

Zorro could hear the other men responding. They began to turn the cattle. This was a long process as the herd was a large one. The huge cloud of dust they generated obscured his view. As usual, from time to time, several cattle decided to make a break for freedom and had to be rounded up and put back into the herd by the vaqueros. Zorro had just taken his foot down from the stirrup when three steers made a break and headed right for his thicket. Tornado snorted and started to prance nervously as two vaqueros chased after the cattle, intending to drive them back to the herd.

"Whoa, boy, whoa," said Zorro, gently stroking Tornado's nose. "We must be quiet, eh?" Tornado bobbed his head nervously, but remained quiet. Zorro could see the whites of their eyes now as the cattle continued running toward the thicket with the vaqueros not far behind, their horses running flat out. Holding Tornado's nose with one hand and the reins tightly in the other, Zorro said in low, calming tones, "Be still, my friend. We must not move." Trusting in his master, Tornado froze in place though he still trembled.

The steers were only a few dozen yards away now. The vaqueros were catching up to them. Just when it seemed that the two friends must be discovered, the great cloud of dust churned up by the herd of cattle drifted into the hiding place so thickly that nothing could be seen. Zorro held his breath to keep from choking and coughing on the thick dust. He heard the strays run past him on the left, but he could not see them. Then the two vaqueros pounded past him, one on either side as they dodged through the trees and brush in pursuit of the wayward cattle. They called to each other as they looked for the cattle, but gave no indication that they had seen the two black shadows in the thicket. Finally, one of them called out that he had spotted the cattle, and the two of them rode away from the thicket. Zorro brought the edge of his cape up over his nose and took a cautious breath. He had been about to turn blue from lack of oxygen. Though it took many minutes, he and Tornado remained where they were as the dust thinned out and drifted away. When they could see once again, the cattle herd was trailing away from them and all the vaqueros were with the herd, even the two who had ridden past him in the thicket.

Zorro patted Tornado on the shoulder. "That was a close one, wasn't it, boy?" he asked. Tornado snorted to clear his nostrils of the dust and bobbed his head in seeming agreement. "I hope we do not run into any more cattle drives today," Zorro said, slapping at his clothes and raising his own cloud of dust. He and Tornado watched as the cattle herd drew farther away. He could see no sign of Don Carlos anywhere. The taciturn don must have ridden on with the herd, for which Zorro was grateful. Don Carlos would as soon see him shot as hung. When Zorro felt that the vaqueros were a safe distance away, he mounted Tornado and they continued on their journey, keeping the thicket between them and the cattle drive just in case any of the vaqueros should look behind them.

The rest of their trip to San Juan was uneventful. Several times they were forced to go around smaller ranchos and the homes of peons, causing further delay, but they were careful and no one spotted the two of them. Just after sunset, they rested beside a small stream for an hour or so, while both man and horse had something to eat from Zorro's saddlebags. The rest for Tornado was necessary, for Zorro did not wish to overextend his faithful mount. Now that it was dark, Zorro felt more safe in riding along the road to San Juan, which would save them considerable time rather than having to go cross country. After resting, they began their journey once again. The long night wore on and the two of them arrived at the outskirts of San Juan a couple of hours before dawn. Zorro knew exactly where the coach would be kept which would be taking Judge Vasca on to his next assignment and he carefully made his way there. The coach was behind the livery stable. The horses would not be hitched to it until just before the judge was ready to leave.

Leaving Tornado in the shadows, Zorro slipped into the livery stables and searched around for a tool he might use. He found several on a makeshift table and took them out to the coach and began to work. When he was done some time later, all four wheels had been taken off the coach, leaving it suspended on four water barrels, and the wheels were safely hidden away in the hay loft. Satisfied that the coachman would be quite busy looking for his wheels and unable to continue his journey until he found them, Zorro then turned his attention to the horses he would need. He quietly entered the corral and caught two horses from among the ones milling about. Then he put harnesses on them. These two horses would pull the carriage he hoped Bernardo had been successful in concealing at his hideout. Leading the horses out of the corral, he tied the reins of one horse to Tornado's saddle horn and then tied the reins of the second horse to the harness of the first.

It would be no longer than one hour before the sun would rise and he would lose the concealing darkness. He made his way over to the back of the inn which had only one story. There were lights in the kitchen and in one or two of the other rooms where paying guests were bedded for the night. Zorro peeked into the window of the kitchen and saw that a woman was making tortillas and had a large kettle of water steaming over the fire. An older man was slicing some meat, laying the strips on a large plate. Moving on, the masked man then turned his attention to the other lighted windows. In one, there was a thin faced older man in a nightshirt who was just sitting up on the edge of his bed, rubbing his face and scratching his stomach. Slowly, his eyes closed. To Zorro's amusement, the man fell back onto the bed and rolled up in his blanket. The man was soon fast asleep, snoring loudly. Shaking his head, Zorro went on to the next window. This was the one he was seeking. He could see by the candlelight in the room that Judge Vasca was up and completely dressed except for his vest and jacket. The portly judge had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, and he was washing his face with water from a basin. His back was to the window.

Zorro turned to face Tornado's hiding place and motioned him to come. The black stallion trotted over with the other horses following close beside him. "Good, Tornado, good," said Zorro. "Now stay right here." Quietly, Zorro drew his sword and carefully opened the window. He slipped into the room and stole up behind the judge, who was just scrubbing his face dry with a towel. Zorro raised his sword and pushed the point right between Judge Vasca's shoulder blades. Vasca froze in place with the towel concealing his face.

"Do not cry out, Your Excellency," said Zorro calmly. "This is Zorro."

Vasca lowered the towel and stared into the mirror on the wall in front of him. "Zorro!" he whispered to himself as he saw the reflection of the masked man standing behind him.

Zorro was somewhat amused at everyone's predictable reaction to seeing him. It never seemed to fail. But, there were more important things to consider than his small bit of fame. "Sí, Your Excellency," he said, as he gave a little bow and a big smile. "You may turn around now."

Vasca turned and looked Zorro up and down in silence. Glaring at the man of shadows, he pulled a ring made of fine gold from his finger. This he tossed to Zorro, who caught it. "There," he said. "That is my most prized possession. Since you are going to kill me, you might as well have it now. I would not want it to be damaged. It has been handed down in my family from father to son for many generations."

Zorro examined the ring and noted the fine workmanship. "It is quite exquisite, Your Excellency," he said. "But this is not the reason I am here. Nor do I intend to kill you unless you force me to by doing something foolish." He tossed the ring back to the judge, surprising him. "You and I are going on a little journey together, Your Excellency," he continued. "If you will please to finish dressing?" Zorro picked up Vasca's vest with the blade of his sword and swung it over to him.

"But, . . .but, . . ." fumed Vasca, as he faced the masked man. "I have no intention of going anywhere with an outlaw and a traitor to our King." He snatched the vest from the sword, and drew himself up to his full, indignant height.

Zorro just smiled and picked up the jacket on his sword and swung it over to the judge, who snatched it away also. "I'm afraid you have no choice in the matter, Your Excellency," he said. "I need you and you will come. Now put those on." Zorro pointed his sword at the judge's heart. "It will not matter to me if you are somewhat damaged when we leave here as long as you are able to ride a horse." He lost his smile.

Vasca continued to look defiantly at the masked outlaw, but soon found that he could not stare him down. He put on the vest and jacket. Then, glaring at Zorro again, he deliberately placed his ring back on his finger.

Zorro laughed. "Excellent!" he said, smiling again. "Now turn around." When Vasca did not move, Zorro took him by the shoulder and pushed until he turned. Sheathing his sword, he took one of the towels from the dresser and placed it over Vasca's mouth and tied it in the back. "I am sorry to do this to you, Your Excellency, but I cannot take any chances that you will cry out before we leave town. Now turn back around and hold out your hands." Zorro ignored the angry looks darting out from behind the gag as he quickly tied Vasca's hands together.

"Now one last thing," he said. Looking around the room, he spotted the judge's portfolio. Opening it, he took out some paper and a writing kit. _Do Not Disturb,_ he wrote. _I will inform you when I am ready to leave._ This paper he took to the door of the room, which he opened carefully. Seeing no one in the hall, he stuck the paper through the handle of the door where the innkeeper would find it. That would surely give them more than enough time to get away.

Turning back to Vasca, who was still throwing darts with his eyes at him over the gag, he gestured to the window. "If you please, Your Excellency?" Vasca did not move. Zorro sighed. "Do not be difficult, Your Excellency," he said as he pulled out his sword again. Vasca had no choice and went to the window. He had a bit more trouble getting out of the window than Zorro had in getting in, both from the fact that he was tied up and from the fact that he was quite rotund. He sat on the window sill and swung one leg up and over while Zorro looked on. But then, he found himself overbalanced and nearly fell out of the window on his head except that Zorro dropped his sword and grabbed the judge by the coat tails. With Zorro straining to keep the judge from falling on his face, they managed to get him out of the window without further mishap.

When Zorro bent down to retrieve his sword, Vasca made an attempt to run away, but the masked man cut him off by leaping through the window and stopping him at the point of his sword. "Ah, ah, ah," said Zorro, smiling while Vasca glared at him. Pointing to the horses, Zorro said, "If you please?" as he indicated that Vasca should precede him. Since only Tornado had a saddle, Zorro had decided to put Vasca on the stallion. He did not want the judge falling off of one of the other horses, so he motioned Vasca to climb up into the saddle. Vasca was quite a bit shorter than Zorro and could barely reach the saddle horn. Seeing that the judge was having difficulties, Zorro sheathed his sword and came to help. He was acutely aware that the method of his aid did nothing to enhance his standing with the judge. But he couldn't help himself from making at least one comment as he used his shoulder and arms to push with all his strength from below.

"Your Excellency, I have always known that you magistrates considered many great and weighty matters, but I did not know that you carried them with you at all times. My admiration for your profession has increased enormously." He smothered a laugh as he heard Vasca making muffled sounds beneath his gag which sounded quite indignant. With one final pull on the saddle horn and a push from below, they finally managed to get the judge aboard.

Already amused at the judge's plight, Zorro nearly laughed aloud when he saw Tornado turn his head to look at him, plainly seeming to ask, _What is this great weight you have asked me to carry?_ He walked to Tornado's head and stroked him with a smile on his face. "You will not have to carry him long, my friend. Just until we reach the hiding place." Tornado shook his head and snorted. Zorro laughed quietly. "All right, an extra measure of oats for you then." Taking Tornado's reins, he pulled them over the stallion's head and tied them up short under his neck where they would not interfere with the horse's mobility. Looking up at Vasca, he said, "I would not want you to get any ideas, Your Excellency. Tornado will follow only my commands, so just sit back and enjoy the ride." Vasca only gripped the saddle horn tighter as he glared at Zorro.

Zorro then leaped lightly upon the back of one of the other horses. Whispering, "Stay close to me, Tornado," they set off at a walk along the road leading out of town. Zorro was leading the other carriage horse on his left side and Tornado was walking next to him on the right side where he could keep an eye on the judge. Slipping out of San Juan, they covered the miles to the hideout by going cross country. The sun was just coming up over the horizon when they turned onto the rough trail which would take them to their destination.


	89. B4 Ch15: A Serpent of Another Sort

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **15 – _A Serpent of Another Sort_**

They reached the first of Zorro's two hiding places as the long shadows from the morning sun reached across the land. The carriage was right where Bernardo had left it and nothing looked disturbed. The small shack next to the base of the cliff was the place where they would spend the day. They would not continue on their journey until nightfall. Zorro dismounted and went to help Judge Vasca down.

"Come, Your Excellency, we will be spending some time here. If you will dismount, please." Zorro held his hands up to help. Vasca made no move to get down, and instead, plunged his heels into Tornado's sides hoping to make an escape. Tornado's middle jumped and he made a "whoofing" sound, but held his ground. Vasca kicked him again. This time Tornado arched his back and put his head down. He turned his head to look at Zorro for the second time as if asking his masked friend to please get the madman off of his back. Zorro slapped Tornado affectionately on the shoulder as he turned to face Vasca while he rested his arm across Tornado's neck. He smiled up at the judge.

"Excellency, I told you Tornado takes orders only from me. If you try that again, I'm afraid you will find yourself on the ground rather suddenly. He does not take kindly to the treatment you are giving him." Vasca rolled his eyes and sighed in disgust. Resigned, he began to dismount. Zorro helped him to the ground and escorted him over to the shack, pushing aside the ragged cloth that served as a door. Behind them, Tornado gave himself a shaking, starting at his head and neck, continuing all the way to his tail. He seemed to snort in relief.

"If you please," said Zorro to the judge, as he smiled broadly at his black companion's antics. He bowed, indicating that Vasca should enter the shack.

Vasca went inside and surveyed his surroundings. He saw a crude bench and one chair along with some coarse bedding on the floor near the back corner. He was singularly unimpressed. The inn of San Juan had not been of the best quality, but it was a palace compared to this wretched shack in the wilderness.

Zorro saw the evidence of his mozo's handiwork and was pleased to see the straw bedding. He pointed to the chair and said, "Be seated, Your Excellency. You shall have the best accommodations which are available." Vasca sat down. Quickly, Zorro rechecked the bindings of Vasca's hands, making sure they were secure without harming the judge. Then with an additional rope, he tied Vasca to the chair. Only then did he remove the portly man's gag.

Vasca spat a few times to get the taste out of his mouth and then said, "You will regret this, Señor. No one may kidnap or threaten a judge without paying the full penalty the law demands. And the ultimate penalty for your crimes is death. I will see you hanged, Señor."

Zorro smiled at him. "Many men have said the same thing, Señor, but I still seem to be here," he said with a jaunty air. Then he became more serious. "I do not intend you harm, Your Excellency. As I said, I have need of you. If you will give me your word of honor not to try and escape, I will consider releasing your bonds."

"I do not make deals with outlaws, Señor," said Vasca vehemently. "I order you to release me at once."

"You intend to be difficult then?" Zorro asked. Vasca just glared at him. Zorro shrugged and said, "As you wish. I must go and tend to the horses. You just behave yourself, eh?"

Leaving Vasca fuming inside the shack, Zorro led all the horses over to the little stream that flowed from the face of the rock and let them drink. Then he took them under the trees and tied up the carriage horses. Tornado he left free, removing the bridle from his head in order that he might graze as he chose. "Eat and rest, my friend," said Zorro. "But stay close in case you are needed." In answer, Tornado dropped his head and began cropping the grass hungrily. With a final pat, Zorro walked back up the trail several dozen yards and, taking a tree branch, he proceeded to wipe out the tracks made by the horses. He was quite hot by the time he was done and took off his cape, draping it over his arm as he walked back to the shack.

He was feeling fatigued. Riding for a day and a night and then dismantling the coach and kidnaping Judge Vasca would tire out any respectable outlaw. He could use several hours sleep.

But he could not sleep just yet because he would have to mount watch along his back trail in case a search from the town was instituted to look for the judge. He did not think anyone could find them, but it paid to be cautious. He reentered the shack to check on the judge, dropping his cape on the bench. "Are you comfortable, Your Excellency?" he asked. Would you like a drink of cool water? There is a stream nearby. I could bring some to you."

"No, by thunder, I am not thirsty!" said Vasca loudly. "I demand once again that you release me. I am a duly appointed official of His Majesty's government. If I ever get free from here, I will use all my powers to see that you are captured and sentenced to death."

"I see that you are committed to your topic, Your Excellency," said Zorro. "I would like to stay and continue this conversation with you, but I have a few other things to do. You will excuse, me?" Zorro bowed and left the shack. He went over to Tornado and took his canteen and saddle bags from the saddle. Behind the shack, he began climbing the rock cliff. When he reached the top, he surveyed the surrounding countryside. He could see nothing moving. So far, so good. He moved beneath a small tree which provided a bit of shade from the hot sun and sat where he could continue to watch all the approaches to the shack. He pulled the mask down from his face to hang around his neck and pushed back his hat to let what little breezes were there to play on his face. Pulling off his gloves, he pulled out some food from his saddlebags and ate quietly.

Diego was pleased with the way things had gone until now, but he hoped that over the next two days he could come to some agreement with Vasca concerning their relationship. It could become quite unpleasant if Vasca remained unyielding. But unpleasant or not, he would have Vasca in San Pedro by midnight tomorrow night. He could not leave his father to face Santiago alone. It worried Diego greatly that he was not able to be two places at once. He clenched his fist at the thought of what he would do to Santiago if anything happened to his father. He just prayed that his father would remain safe until he could bring Judge Vasca to hear what he must hear. Only Santiago's uncoerced confession of his nefarious acts would see the Magistrado brought down and only Vasca's retraction of Diego's conviction for treason would set the young man free. When Vasca heard Santiago's admissions from his own lips, he would have to come to his own conclusions, make his own judgements. Diego also prayed that his father would be up to the task of drawing Santiago out so that there would be no doubt as to his guilt in framing Diego and his further plans to defraud the landowners out of vast parts of California. This being the case, Diego felt certain that Vasca would make the right decisions. Otherwise, the exile forced upon him would become a reality, for he did not intend to live in California as an outlaw all the rest of his life, never daring to show his face among honest men.

Finally, Diego's fatigue was becoming too much for him as he was growing quite sleepy from being so still. No one seemed to be looking in this direction for the judge, so he felt as though it would be safe to go back to the shack. He replaced his mask, gloves, and his hat before climbing back down the rock. He emptied and refilled his canteen with fresh water from the stream. A glance at the horses showed that all was fine with them. Tornado was still eating grass, but now it was not with such urgency. He would give them all a good feed of oats from the bag stored in the carriage before they set out tonight.

Back in the shack, he was met by a stony glare from Judge Vasca. Shaking his head in amusement, Zorro put the canteen and the saddlebag on the bench and went over to the judge. "Señor, you must be thirsty or hungry by now. Will you at least give me your word of honor that you will not try anything foolish if I untie you while you eat?"

Vasca took a deep breath, preparing to deny his cooperation, but just then his stomach gave out with a loud, churning growl. He was not happy to see the smile on Zorro's face as the man looked pointedly at Vasca's middle section. But neither could he deny his hunger any longer. His shoulders slumped as he gave in. "All right, you win for now, Señor Outlaw," he said. When Zorro cocked his head to one side, just waiting, he sighed and said, "I give you my word as a magistrate of the King, that I will not try to escape while I am eating."

Zorro smiled even more at the narrow scope of the judge's promise, but he bowed and said, "I accept your word, Your Excellency." He untied the judge and stepped back. Vasca stood carefully, as he was somewhat stiff, and rubbed his wrists. "Here is your repast, Your Excellency," said Zorro, as he pulled some food from the saddle bag and handed it to the judge. "And there is some fresh, cool water from the stream in that." He pointed to the canteen.

Vasca smelled daintily of the food in his hands and looked in disappointment at Zorro. "This is all you have?" he asked. "This is not the cuisine to which I am accustomed."

Zorro shrugged. "I am afraid that is all I have, Your Excellency. It will have to do for now."

"How very uncivilized," Vasca sniffed dismissively, as he sat down on the bench to eat his food. He would not so much as look at Zorro while he ate.

Zorro leaned tiredly against the door post as he watched Vasca. _Uncivilized?_ he mused to himself. _I shall have to change his mind._ He paused. "But not too quickly," he smiled.

After the judge had finished eating, Zorro led him out to the stream and let him take care of his personal needs while he watched from a distance. True to his word, Vasca made no attempt to escape. As they walked back to the shack, Zorro said, "Your Excellency, I am in need of a few hours of sleep. I will ask you again for your word of honor not to try and escape and I will not have to bind you."

Vasca turned to him and said, "Señor, it is my duty to try and escape in order to bring the local law enforcement to capture you for trial. I will not relinquish my ability to do so, and so will not give you my word as you ask."

Zorro smiled ruefully. "I thank you for your honesty, Excellency," he said. "Come then, let us see to your bindings." Soon, Zorro had Vasca retied to the chair. He pointed to the straw bed and said, "Now, I intend to get some sleep, Your Excellency." He bowed again, "Con permisso?" He laughed quietly to himself as he heard Vasca's snort of indignation from behind his back as he turned to go to the bed. He took the pistol from his banda and checked its priming then drew his sword. He lay down on his back, stretching out his legs and propping his head on a makeshift pillow of hay while trying to settle the lumps under his shoulders. It seemed that never again would he have a bed that was not full of lumps. He lay his sword by his right side and kept his hand on its hilt. With his left hand, he placed the pistol on his chest while he pulled his hat down over his eyes, then he grasped its handle once again. He was as prepared as was possible. Taking a deep breath, he let it out and was asleep in an instant.

Judge Vasca knew better than to strain against his bindings. He had already spent the morning trying to break free while Zorro was up on the rock. He knew it was useless. Again, he wondered if anyone was looking for him. Apparently this outlaw felt safe enough if he was able to fall asleep like that. Therefore, no rescue was coming any time soon. He looked at the masked man sleeping so peacefully on the pallet of hay beside him. He tried to imagine the man's identity, and wished the outlaw had not pulled his hat over his face while he slept. There was something hauntingly familiar about him, but Vasca just couldn't place it. Had he ever seen this man without his mask and had not known it? As much as he thought about it, nothing came to him.

Shrugging his shoulders to himself, Vasca turned his thoughts once more to wonder why this man had abducted him. Not once had the outlaw made any mention as to why he felt it necessary to kidnap Vasca, other than the vague statement that he "needed" the judge. That was a strange way to put it. Need. Ransom he could understand, or revenge for the younger de le Vega's conviction would make sense, but need? Unless, . . . the outlaw planned to use him as a bargaining chip for some other of his schemes. That must be it. That must be what this need was. Vasca was being held as a hostage until Zorro could get what he wanted from someone higher up. Someone perhaps . . . like . . . the Governor? And what would the Governor have that the masked man might want? Vasca puzzled on this for a while. There could be many things, among them retribution for the conviction of de la Vega. Vasca wondered just what would have made de la Vega so special to the outlaw that he would risk so much to kidnap a judge. Such loyalty among thieves and traitors was not the norm. They would just as soon cut each other's throats as to look at one another was Vasca's experience. But as he gazed upon the sleeping outlaw, he wondered about that.

Sighing, he realized that his analysis had led him as far as he could go without more information. He would just have to keep his eyes and ears open. He felt reasonably certain that the Governor would not negotiate with an outlaw for his life. He would not give into a treasonous conspirator merely to save Vasca from death. And he would know that Vasca would not ask him to compromise. He would be willing to die rather than see the Governor give in to a lawless traitor.

His attention returned to the sleeping man beside him. How young he was to be a bandit and an outlaw. What had gone wrong in this young man's life to lead him into a life of crime? What ambition was it that caused him to want to overthrow the legitimate government of California for his own purposes? Vasca shook his head. Would he ever know? He had to admit though, that he was a very polite outlaw. And he did have his own sense of honor and was willing to give the judge a chance to exercise his. If he were to be believed, he was willing to take Vasca's word of honor not to try and escape while he slept. Vasca did not believe Zorro was naive enough to have offered such a thing to a man who had no personal honor. Therefore, Zorro understood personal honor in the manner that was the usual purview of the gentry. His speech and mannerisms would lend credence to the idea that he was once a member of that higher class of society. And who said he was once a member? He could still be part of the upper class, moving among the people undiscovered, since he always wore the mask when he went about as Zorro. This thought intrigued the judge as he watched the sleeping outlaw. Who was the young man behind that mask?

Time passed and the evening shadows crept across the land. Vasca found himself becoming drowsy since he had nothing else to do. He closed his eyes. But then something made him open them once again. A peculiar sound was coming from the other side of the sleeping outlaw. A small noise, it was continuous and getting closer. He kept looking. When he saw it he stopped breathing. The triangular shaped head of a snake had appeared from around Zorro's left foot. Vasca was frightened, but then he had the fleeting thought that if the serpent were to bite the outlaw, then that would be the end of him. And he was sure that this was a rattlesnake. He had seen enough of them in his travels to be sure. The diamond shaped head was all too familiar to him. But not even he would see this man die from the poison of such an animal. It would not be civilized. Using his foot, he kicked some dust in the direction of the snake, trying to scare it and make it go away. This had the unhappy result of making the snake coil up defensively right between the sleeping outlaw's feet. Vasca was thoroughly alarmed now.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself to calmness as he said, "Señor. Señor Zorro. Wake up." He dared not shout or the masked man might make a sudden movement and be bitten. Zorro stirred, but did not awaken. Louder, but still in a calm voice, Vasca spoke again. "Señor Zorro. Wake up, please."

Groggily, Zorro used the tip of his pistol to push the hat back from his face. "Sí, Your Excellency. What is it?" he said, as he blinked a few times.

"Do not move, Señor Zorro," said Vasca quietly. "There is a rattlesnake coiled between your feet. If you move, he will most certainly strike."

Zorro locked eyes with Vasca for a moment and saw truth written there. Then he slowly lifted his head up to look down the length of his body toward his feet. His heart nearly stopped. The snake was coiled there between his boots, seeming to be looking right at him. He swallowed hard. Lifting the pistol, he took aim at the snake, but it was very awkward. He could not elevate his head quite enough, and he really couldn't see to aim at his target very well. He was as likely to shoot himself in the foot as he was to hit the snake. The movement of the pistol agitated the snake further and it began to sound its warning rattle. Very loudly. Zorro's blood ran cold. He froze.

"Do not move, Señor Zorro," said Judge Vasca. "This serpent is a very touchy one. The slightest movement seems only to make matters worse."

"What would you suggest I do?" said Zorro, who had eyes only for the snake who was staring back at him with its amber, reptilian eyes.

"Make no movement. Eventually, the beast will leave if you do nothing else to annoy him," said Vasca.

In very dry tones, Zorro inquired, "And may I ask what makes you such an expert on snakes?"

Vasca shrugged his shoulders slightly. "I do not know, but I can see the evidence of my eyes. Any movement agitates him all the more, so logically, making no movement should calm him."

"I hope you are right," Zorro said earnestly. He forced himself to lower the pistol very, very slowly although he kept his head elevated as much as he could. He did not want to lose sight of the reptile. Both men stared at the rattler.

After a long time, the snake began to pause its rattling, though it would begin again almost immediately. Eventually, the pauses became longer and longer until at last there was silence. Finally, the snake just lay there all coiled up, its head still facing Zorro, flicking its tongue in and out as though tasting the air. Just when Zorro was despairing that the reptile would never move, the snake lifted its head and seemed to be looking around. With a suddenness that surprised both men, the rattler uncoiled itself and moved from between Zorro's feet to go slithering along the inside of his right leg, moving up toward his knee.

Perspiration started beading up on Zorro's face. His adrenaline was coursing through his veins, but he could not give in. He gritted his teeth in an effort to remain still. He actually wanted to do nothing of the sort. He wanted to jump up and quite possibly yell in the most undignified manner as he ran from the creature. But to do so was death. He would rather face a thousand Monastarios or Vargas as to have to lie on his bed at the mercy of the reptile between his legs.

Judge Vasca's eyes grew larger as he realized what the snake was doing and he did not miss the fear on the face of the outlaw even though the man remained utterly still. Vasca was sure that by now he would have expired from the failure of his own heart had he been the one lying there in the outlaw's place. He found that he could admire Zorro's self-control.

When the snake's head reached a point just above Zorro's right knee, it decided to change direction. It turned to its left, and started up and over Zorro's right leg. Finding a space between Zorro's sword and his thigh, it began to slither upwards toward the masked man's waist along the outside of his leg. It paused when it reached Zorro's gloved hand, with part of its long body still resting across Zorro's thigh, just above the knee. Its only movement was its sharp tongue flicking in and out.

Zorro could no longer see the head of the snake, but he could see and feel the weight of the reptile's body on his thigh. He had almost jumped out of his skin when the serpent had started across his leg, but had clamped down on his reaction with an iron control. In a near whisper, through clenched teeth, he said, "Please, Your Excellency. Can you tell me what he is doing?"

Swallowing in a dry throat, Vasca said, "His head is next to your hand, Señor. The creature is not moving."

The muscles in Zorro's neck were beginning to protest from holding his head up so long. They began to quiver. When Zorro could no longer keep his head elevated, he let it drop slowly back onto the straw pillow. Now he could no longer see anything of the serpent.

"The beast is now raising up its head and is looking around," continued Vasca. "I think it is going to slide over your wrist."

Zorro felt the weight of the snake as the serpent did indeed do just that. Again he swallowed hard. He could tell that the snake's body was no longer on his leg, but it seemed to take forever for the serpent to glide over his wrist. "And now, Señor?" he asked.

"He is moving up along the outside of your arm. You should be able to hear him," said Vasca. "He will be passing right by your face in a moment. By all that is Holy, continue to be still."

Indeed, Zorro could hear the small rustling sound that the snake was making as it glided over the straw bedding. The sound was growing louder. He tried to cut his eyes in the direction of the sound without moving his head, but he could see nothing. Suddenly, the noise stopped.

Vasca watched in horror as the snake raised its head and the upper part of its body several inches off of the floor right by Zorro's face. It cast about, tasting the air with its tongue as it tried to decide where to go next. At one point, the questing head moved over to its right and rested on Zorro's cheek for a moment. Vasca could see that the masked man was not breathing and his eyes were staring straight up.

Zorro felt the head of the snake come to rest upon his cheek. His whole world condensed down to just him and the reptile. He could not see or hear anything else. He felt the wild sensation of the serpent's tongue as it flicked out and touched just the end of his nose several times with the softness of the most delicate feather. He did not move. He did not know if this was because he knew he must not, or because he was totally incapable of independent movement, being quite paralyzed. The serpent seemed to take an eternity in making its choice. Time was frozen in place. At long last, its body arched back to the left and its head passed directly over Zorro's right eye as it made its choice of direction away from his face. The noise of its passage resumed.

Judge Vasca saw that Zorro had closed his eyes. Had the man fainted? There was absolutely no movement by the masked man. In hopes that Zorro was still conscious, he said, "Señor Zorro, if you can hear me, do not speak. The serpent is heading away from you now. A moment more and he will be gone. There is a hole in the planking behind you and he is disappearing into that." Indeed the snake was making a fast exit out of the shack through the hole in the wall. When the last button on the snake's rattle disappeared into the hole, Vasca said, "It is over now, Señor. It is gone."

Zorro remained absolutely still. Vasca began to fear that the man had died. He could detect no movement whatsoever.

For a long while, Zorro couldn't find it within himself to move. He merely lay there for long moments while he encouraged himself to begin to breathe again, relishing the fact that he was alive. When he could trust himself to move, he raised one hand and wiped the perspiration from his face. He was completely damp all over, even his mask was wringing wet. Slowly, he turned his head to look at the judge and they shared a silent conversation concerning what he had just endured. Both men knew what the consequences would have been had the reptile struck.

After a time, Zorro sat up and brushed some of the hay from his sleeves, then rested his arms on his raised knees. After another moment of gathering his strength again, he rose to his feet, brushing away the rest of the hay clinging to him. He walked slowly over to the bench on legs which seemed to be made of rubber, carrying his sword and pistol. Sitting down, he shoved the pistol into his banda and rested the blade of his sword across his knees as he picked up the canteen and took a long drink. Somewhat recovered, he replaced the cap on the canteen as he said to Vasca in a level voice, "You could have let me die, Señor."

Sternly, Vasca agreed with him. "Sí, I could have," he said. But then, in a somewhat softer tone, he said, "But no man deserves such a death as that would have been."

"I am grateful to you, Your Excellency," said Zorro.

"Then in gratitude, release me and place yourself in my custody. I will guarantee you a fair trial under the law," said the judge earnestly.

Zorro smiled gently. "I am afraid I cannot do that," he said. "I owe my existence to someone who needs my help. He is the reason I need you. No, Your Excellency, I cannot let you go just yet."

"Do you mean Diego de la Vega?" Vasca asked, his eyes narrowing. "He was lawfully convicted and sentenced and now I hear that he is dead." Zorro only looked at the judge, not answering him.

"He is dead," said Vasca, though it was more of a question than a statement of fact. Again, Zorro did not respond.

Vasca studied Zorro. Though he had said nothing, the masked man seemed certain young de la Vega was alive. He could see it in the outlaw's eyes. "I see," said Vasca, nodding his head thoughtfully. "So, Diego de la Vega is alive," he said, taking Zorro's silence as an acknowledgment. "You would not care to tell me how you were able to discover this?" he asked. Zorro opened the canteen and took another drink, deliberately replacing the cap. Though he looked at the judge, he again spoke not a word.

Vasca addressed the outlaw once more. "Whether Diego de la Vega is alive or dead, he was prosecuted under the laws of our government and was found guilty of his crimes. To quote the Magistrado, _'Justice was served.'_ " Zorro's eyes flashed as he heard those words, but he held his tongue. Vasca saw this fire his words had sparked. But he had more to say.

"Holding me hostage will change nothing for young de la Vega. Neither I nor the governor will compromise his conviction though it cost us our lives. Upon our honor, either we uphold the law and believe in its justice or we compromise and doom our country to lawlessness." Looking at the silent outlaw, he said, "But perhaps, since you are involved in the treasoner's conspiracy yourself, since you are its founder and leader, you do not believe in the same things as we do."

Zorro stood then and sheathed his sword with a snap. "Your Excellency," he said sternly. "I believe as strongly as you do in serving justice. I have risked my life many times in its cause." He pointed to the place where the snake had exited the shack. "And I know there are men who are more dangerous than the reptile who just left our company. For the snake is always a snake and you know the danger you face when you confront it. But there are those who come to us in the guise of honest and just men who tear at the very fabric of our country with their corrupt and self-serving ways. Young de la Vega was the victim of just such a man."

Vasca stared at Zorro for a long moment trying to determine whom he might be talking about. Then a thought came to him. "You cannot mean Señor Santiago," said Judge Vasca in astonishment.

"I do," said Zorro simply.

"You are mistaken, Señor Outlaw," said Vasca adamantly, shaking his head. "You are mistaken."

Zorro decided he had said enough. He did not wish to say something that would prejudice the judge against him or Diego even more, nor did he wish to risk that the judge would fail to be persuaded by Santiago's coming performance in San Pedro tomorrow night.

"Your Excellency, I would like to continue our discussion, but I need to be making things ready for our journey this evening. Tomorrow night, when we reach our destination, the truth will be revealed and you may choose then who you will believe." Picking up his cape, he bowed to Vasca as he said, "Again, I will express my gratitude in the matter of the serpent, Your Excellency." Zorro placed the cape over his shoulders and tied the cords saying, "Con permisso?" as, with a smile, he left to go tend to the horses.

It rankled Vasca greatly when the outlaw poked at him like that. "Con permisso, indeed," he muttered under his breath. He could hear the outlaw speaking to the horses outside as he fed and watered the animals. He thought about Santiago and sniffed in derision at the very thought of the Magistrado being somehow corrupt. He knew the man well, having met him in Monterey many times and from speaking of him with the Governor. He knew the Governor held Santiago in the highest regard. The trial of Diego de la Vega had been conducted fairly and all the evidence given could lead to only one conclusion. Only de la Vega's reluctance to defend himself in anyway was at all puzzling to Judge Vasca given that the man had entered a plea of not guilty. No, there was nothing amiss with the Magistrado. This Zorro was just trying to confuse things. Well, Vasca was going to have none of that. He remained committed to trying to escape and to seeing that Zorro was captured and brought to trial. If Diego de la Vega was alive, he would be immediately executed as prescribed by law if he should be found in California. Then, all the conspirators in this latest attempt to overthrow the government of California would be eliminated.


	90. B4 Ch16: Converging on San Pedro

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **16 – Converging on San Pedro**

Night had fallen in San Pedro. Many people had come and gone from the little tavern under the tree and Don Alejandro had seen them all. He had made a general nuisance of himself with the barkeeper, saying the wine was not fit to drink, and then drinking a whole bottle of it and demanding more. A few of the townspeople had thought to sit and drink his wine with him, but after he began his well-worn tale of woe concerning his shame and loss, they soon drifted away and left him to sulk all alone. He could see them at the other tables, leaning close to each other and talking in low tones of pity for him, and tones of scandal for his traitorous son. Don Alejandro hated every minute of it, but he had to stay. He must be what Zorro wanted him to be for as long as it took.

At least there was hope of a resolution tomorrow night. He wondered how his mysterious friend was coming along with his part of the plan. Don Alejandro snorted into his wine glass as he took another drink. _Bring Vasca to hear Santiago's confession, indeed,_ he scoffed to himself. But then he shrugged his shoulders and mused that the masked man had done so many things thought to be impossible, who could say that he would not accomplish his goals. _"You had just better be here tomorrow night,"_ he threatened Zorro under his breath. _"This wine is not fit for man nor beast, but it is all they have. My stomach is already protesting the treatment I am giving it."_ He rubbed his stomach with his hand, willing it to settle down. He decided to order some food to see if that would help.

Just as he placed his order with the serving girl, he saw Señor Lozano walk up to the small tavern. Lozano stopped and looked around as if seeking someone in particular. When he noticed Don Alejandro, he walked over.

"Ah, Don Alejandro," he said cordially. "How is it I find you here in San Pedro and not in Los Angeles? Everyone is wondering what had happened to you. Even Tío has been asking."

"I'll just bet he is," snorted Don Alejandro. "I was his best customer."

Lozano ignored that comment and said, "The Magistrado is also quite concerned about you. I heard him speaking to Sergeant Garcia just this morning."

Taking another drink from his glass as if he really did not care, he asked, "Oh, really? What did he say?"

"Only that he wanted to make sure you were all right and offer to help you in any way that he could," said Lozano.

"He can help me by leaving me alone," said Don Alejandro in a surly tone. "I want nothing to do with him or anyone in Los Angeles." He refilled his glass, splashing wine on the table.

"So, do you plan to stay here, Don Alejandro? Who is looking after your rancho?"

"I don't care to discuss it!" Don Alejandro said loudly. The other customers of the little tavern looked over at the two men. "You know I can't bear to stay where my shame is written on everyone's face when they look at me! I will never return to Los Angeles. Now go and leave me alone!"

"Sí, Don Alejandro, I am just leaving." Lozano bowed and hastily walked away.

Moments later, Don Alejandro caught sight of Lozano galloping away down the road to Los Angeles. _Going to report to your master, eh?_ he thought to himself. _Good._ He thought about Zorro and his plans. He was once again impressed with how well the masked man knew his enemies and how they would react to certain things. It was almost as if he could read their minds. He knew just how to manipulate them based upon their weaknesses and their greed, showing them just what they wanted to see and getting them to play into his hands. Someday, he would like to know more about the man behind the mask. Just who was he, and where did he come from? He shook his head at asking the unanswerable. The identity of Zorro was the greatest mystery in all California. But even the desire to see behind the mask was secondary to getting his son back and seeing that Santiago was brought to justice. He looked down the opposite road to the one Lozano had taken, and wondered how much luck the masked man was having in getting Judge Vasca to San Pedro. All their plans would be for nothing if he could not accomplish that feat. But if any man could, Zorro was the man.

Don Alejandro raised his glass in a silent salute to Zorro, but paused when it reached his lips. He grimaced as his stomach protested again. Putting his glass back down on the table, he said within himself, _I salute you in spirit my friend in black, but not with this vinegar they call wine. May you find the judge and arrive here in time._

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Zorro drove the carriage in the darkness with the judge seated beside him. Using the carriage was quite risky, for it would be noticed more easily, but he did not wish to abuse Judge Vasca more than was necessary. The ride on horseback to the shack had been quite an ordeal for the portly judge who was not used to such, not to mention the toll it took upon the horse who carried him. Zorro was not sure that Tornado had forgiven him even yet. Setting a good pace for the carriage horses, they covered the miles through the countryside. They should arrive at the second hiding place near San Pedro just before dawn. There they would wait until the following midnight for the meeting with Santiago. He wondered just how his father was doing. By now Santiago must have gotten word that Don Alejandro had fled his rancho and had gone away to San Pedro. Now all his father would have to do is send for Santiago with the word that he would entertain an offer on the de la Vega holdings. Santiago would come.

Next to him, Judge Vasca rode in silence. He had finally given his word that he would not cry out as they rode along, so he did not have to wear the gag. However, he would not give his word not to try and escape, so his hands were securely bound in front of him. Tornado trotted along just behind the carriage, keeping pace easily. Far to the east, another thunderstorm was blowing itself out against the hills. Both men marveled to themselves at the fiery display as they rode along. Long, crookedly spiked fingers of lightning crawled over the surface of the enormous cloud, lighting it from within and without. From time to time, a flashing bolt struck the ground and the grumbling of the distant thunder could be heard. The storm was not coming in their direction, so they were able to observe it without fear of being inundated. It was lost to their sight after another hour or so as the road turned to run closer to the coastline. Now there was only the long road into San Pedro.

Zorro did not try to make conversation with his passenger. There was very little more he could say to the judge. Santiago was the one the judge must hear. He kept his senses alert for anyone else who might be using the roads at this time of the night. Only bandits, soldiers and military couriers were likely to use the roads this late at night. He could only pray that they did not run into any of them. He could not afford to let bandits harm the judge, and soldiers would see it as their duty to try and capture or kill the famous outlaw, once again placing Vasca in danger. The road narrowed as it wound around and dipped through the hills. With this in mind, Zorro called softly to Tornado. The great stallion came up beside the carriage and fixed his eye upon his master.

"Tornado," said Zorro. "Go ahead of us. Watch for danger. Watch for danger, Tornado." The stallion snorted, flaring his nostrils, and increased his pace, soon outdistancing the carriage.

"Do you really believe the horse will follow your directions like that?" Vasca asked, speaking for the first time since they had left the shack.

"Oh, Tornado is a very intelligent creature," Zorro said with a smile. "There is not another one like him in all California."

"But you cannot just speak to a horse and ask him to warn you of danger," said Vasca. "It is just not possible. Horses just cannot do such a thing."

"But Tornado can," said Zorro. "I have every confidence in him. He has saved my life many times."

"But he understands you?" asked Vasca. "I mean, he knows what you are saying? How is that possible?"

The masked man laughed and said, "Because he is _my_ horse."

"Humph," snorted Vasca derisively. "I suppose next you will be telling me that he can beat you in a game of chess."

"We have never played together, Your Excellency, but now that you mention it, he just might like to learn the game," said Zorro with a smile. "Being intelligent, Tornado is so easily bored, you see. Yes, learning to play chess just might be the thing for him." As Zorro looked at Vasca, he thought for just a moment that the judge was buying into this fanciful line and his smile grew.

Vasca closed his mouth which had fallen open and glared at Zorro as he realized that he was being toyed with. "Chess, indeed," he grumped. "He probably cannot even find his way home by himself," he said. "Whatever fox hole in the ground that you call home, that is."

Zorro laughed again, but stopped as his attention was drawn by the sound of hoof beats coming toward them. He slowed the carriage. It was Tornado coming back to them. Zorro pulled the carriage to a stop. Tornado pulled up several yards in front of the carriage and whickered as he pawed the ground. He reared a little, seeming to be quite agitated. "Someone is coming," said Zorro, looking around for a place to hide the carriage. There were some trees and bushes off to his left that would have to do for cover. "Are they close?" he asked Tornado. The stallion threw his head up and down several times. "All right, boy. Just follow us," Zorro said. He turned the carriage horses off of the road and they bumped along over the rough ground until they were behind the thicket. Tornado came to stand beside the carriage.

Zorro turned to the judge and said, "Your Excellency. You gave me your word that you would not cry out if I did not gag you. May I rely on that, Your Excellency, on your word of honor?"

Judge Vasca raised his chin indignantly. "I am a man of my word, Señor," he said to Zorro. "I do not know what is going on here, but I have given my word not to cry out and I will not do so."

"Splendid," said Zorro, who got out of the carriage, leaving Vasca behind. "We will just wait here quietly until whoever it is coming along the road has passed by." He went to the carriage horses and stood by their heads, stroking their noses to keep them quiet. He did not have long to wait. In a moment, he heard the sound of several horses. In the darkness, it was difficult to tell, but he knew from their uniforms that it was a contingent of soldiers. They were heading south, probably going to the presidio in San Diego. Why they were riding this time of the night was anyone's guess, but soldiers were subject to the whims of their officers and they must be on some mission or other. Zorro looked back at the occupant of the carriage, concerned that the temptation would become too great for the judge to bear. All it would take was one shout and the soldiers would be upon them. Zorro would have to flee and Judge Vasca would be set free.

Judge Vasca squinted through the darkness, trying to see who was coming. He was astounded to realize that Zorro's horse had indeed come back to warn his master of the danger ahead. But this was not important now. He could see the riders and knew them for soldiers in service to His Majesty, the King. He opened his mouth to call out, then stopped. He looked at the man in black standing in front of the carriage horses and found the masked outlaw looking right at him. Zorro said nothing, but continued to stroke the horses' noses, quietly observing whether or not Judge Vasca was going to keep his word. Vasca looked back at the road and saw the soldiers were even with their position. Soon, they would be past and gone. He watched them for a second more and then looked back at Zorro. Pressing his lips together in a tight line, Vasca leaned back against the seat of the carriage and held his peace. He would have given the man his word, he thought to himself ruefully. But he would never let anyone say, not even a traitorous outlaw, that Sebastian Vasca was not a man of his word. He listened as the hoof beats of the soldiers' mounts faded into the night along with any hopes of a rescue. When they were well gone, Zorro left the horses and came back to the carriage.

Zorro looked at Vasca for a few moments and then said, "I see you are indeed a man of your word, Your Excellency. I shall never doubt you again for a moment." He bowed before the judge.

Vasca returned the bow to acknowledge Zorro's words. Then he said, "I merely wished to see whether or not your horse was truly able to discern danger, Señor. I see that I must acknowledge that you do tell the truth, . . . on occasion."

Zorro smiled. "I try to tell the truth as often as I can, Your Excellency," he said. Leaving Vasca to stare at him, he climbed into the carriage and urged the horses back onto the road.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

They arrived at their destination in good time. The sun had not yet risen. The smell of the salt water from the ocean was sharp in the dark morning breeze. Zorro was quite pleased with their progress as there were no further encounters with soldiers or others who could upset his plans. When he stopped the carriage inside the cave, he was quick to get out and see to the judge, helping him descend to the ground as his hands were still bound in front of him. He lit a small lantern by which to see and indicated the cave with a wave of his hand. "This will be our home for today, Your Excellency. You may walk about within the confines of the cave and stretch your legs, but I caution you not to try and escape. I will see to the horses and prepare some food for us shortly." He bowed and then led the horses further into the cave where he began to unhitch them.

Judge Vasca looked around in the dim light and saw that the cave was quite large. There was plenty of room for the carriage, the horses and the two of them. The opening did not face the ocean directly, but at an oblique angle. Therefore, anyone sailing by on a boat or walking along the beach would not likely be able to see them. The outlaw had chosen his hiding place well. However, Vasca was not inclined to stay here. He noticed that Zorro was busy with the carriage horses as he fed and watered them from stores he had obviously brought here for that purpose. There was also some straw for bedding, blankets, and some sacks which might contain their breakfast located on one side of the cave. A small pile of firewood was placed near a circle of stones. Regretting that he would have to forgo whatever was to be served for breakfast, Vasca began moving quietly toward the opening of the cave, intending to slip out into the predawn darkness and get away. Before they had turned off the main road and traveled down here near the ocean, Judge Vasca had recognized where they were. He knew that San Pedro was not far away. He could seek help from there if he could but get away from the outlaw. Then he could have a proper breakfast.

Zorro turned his back completely on the judge as he worked with the horses and Vasca took that moment to head for the mouth of the cave. He fell back as a enormous black shadow came straight at him from the outer darkness. For a moment he thought it might be a demon, but then he immediately recognized that it was Zorro's horse, Tornado. The black stallion stood in the entrance of the cave, tossing his shapely head and pawing the ground with one hoof. Vasca was blocked.

"Graciás, Tornado," Zorro said right behind the judge. Vasca jumped and turned to look at the outlaw who had come up behind him so silently. Zorro walked over and stroked the stallion's neck as he looked at the judge. "I see that you continue to be a man of your word, Your Excellency," said Zorro with a smile. "But there is no escape as you can see. I have a very capable ally." He patted Tornado on the neck again.

Judge Vasca scowled at the outlaw, reserving his darkest look for the horse. How could he win when even the man's horse was his captor? He scowled even more when Zorro smiled at him as though reading his thoughts.

"Come, Your Excellency," said Zorro ushering Vasca back into the depths of the cave. "I know you must be famished." Vasca looked longingly once more at the entrance to the cave. Tornado seemed to recognize this and raised his head, looking directly at the judge. Vasca narrowed his eyes at the horse and then allowed himself to be shown to the area where the supplies were located. Zorro removed his cape and tossed it into the seat of the carriage though he did keep his sword and pistol with him at all times. Vasca stood watching as Zorro placed some of the firewood in the circle of stones and set it ablaze. The masked man then went about the process of opening the sacks and drawing out the food and utensils there. As Vasca observed the activity, it was clear the man had no skill at all with the preparation of food, as if he had always had others prepare it for him. There was a side of cured bacon, a hollowed out gourd in which eggs had been placed, and a small sack of the corn meal necessary to make tortillas. In another sack there were onions, peppers, a small bag of salt, and a large wedge of cheese. Zorro put a black iron pan on the fire and prepared to cook the bacon. His first attempts were not entirely successful. The bacon slices were blackened on one end and almost raw on the other.

Finally Vasca could stand it no longer. It was sacrilege to destroy food, even such simple fare as this, by being inept. Speaking up, he said, "Stop, Señor! Stop. Do not torture that poor food any longer." Zorro looked up. Vasca held out his hands, still bound. "If you will release me, I give you my word of honor I will not try to escape right now. Just please desist and allow me to prepare our meal. I cannot bear what you are doing to it."

Zorro set the pan aside on a rock and stood, placing his hands on his hips as he considered the judge's offer. Then he smiled. "Graciás, Your Excellency," he said. Taking his knife, he cut the cord binding the judge's hands together. While Vasca rubbed his wrists, Zorro said, "You make an offer I cannot refuse. The kitchen is yours." He held out the knife, handle first, to the judge.

Vasca's eyes met Zorro's for a moment as he took the knife, which had the head of a fox worked into its design. Then he turned to the food and began to work with it, first dumping out of the pan the ruins left behind by the masked man. Food was serious business and he intended to make something that was fit to eat when he was through with it. He ignored the outlaw as he worked.

Zorro smiled as he watched the portly judge prepare the food. He could see that Vasca knew exactly what he was doing and was glad to have given way to an expert. Somehow in all of his growing up and beyond, he had never found it necessary to cook for himself. There were always servants or others to prepare the food. Although he had the general idea as to how things were to be done, that was quite different from doing it for oneself. He smiled as he thought about how Bernardo would be laughing at him if he were here. Bernardo could prepare excellent meals when it was required. The great El Zorro could not even fry a piece of bacon without burning it.

Still smiling, he decided to take a look outside the cave and then see to the comfort of Tornado who was still standing in the entrance. Everything outside was quiet. Returning, he settled Tornado just inside the cave with a measure of oats after removing the saddle and bridle, setting them aside. The smell of the bacon and onions began drifting his way and soon his stomach rumbled in anticipation. He gave Vasca his space and watched the man with amusement as he worked so seriously at his task. He remembered the time Judge Vasca had met Sergeant Garcia and had bested him in an eating match. Zorro had found a sort of odd admiration for the man who could consume that much food, causing even Garcia to proclaim that he had finally met his match. Leaving Vasca for a few moments, Zorro stepped out of the cave to look around once more. The sun was well up now, its light softly bathing the land around him. He could just make out the ocean beyond the rocks that concealed the cave so well. He climbed on some of the rocks, up to the top of the cave's entrance, so that he could see in all directions, and saw no one about. That was good. He jumped back down and re-entered the cave, walking over to the judge.

"Ah, Señor Outlaw," said Vasca as he divided between them the omelet he had made. "Come and partake of this. I dare say you will not find better in the whole of California this morning than this breakfast which I have prepared." Vasca had equally portioned the omelet, full of bacon bits, cheese, onions and peppers onto two of the wooden plates which he had found in one of the sacks. There was a substantial stack of tortillas prepared as well, all golden brown and warming by the fire. Vasca looked around. "What have we to drink, Señor Outlaw?"

"One moment, Excellency," said Zorro and he went to the back of the cave and brought back two bottles of wine from those hidden there.

"Wine for breakfast?" asked Vasca, who took the bottle from Zorro.

"Unless you would prefer water?" asked Zorro. "I'm afraid this is all we have."

Vasca looked at the bottles of wine and saw the name written on the labels. "This is de la Vega wine, eh?" he said. Then he looked up at the outlaw. "Did you steal this or did your accomplice give this to you?" he asked.

"If you mean Diego de la Vega, Your Excellency, you might say that he gave the wine to me," said Zorro, becoming a little defensive. "I am no common thief."

"That is for certain, true," said Judge Vasca. "You are anything but common, Señor Outlaw."

Deciding that he did not wish to bicker with the judge, Zorro said, "Shall we eat, Your Excellency? I would not want everything to get cold while we are talking." Vasca nodded and handed the wooden plate to Zorro along with a fork. They fell to eating with great gusto. After a couple of mouthfuls, Zorro waved his fork and said, "This is quite well done, Excellency. My compliments."

"Graciás," said Vasca, taking another tortilla from the stack. "It pains me to think what you would have done to this food if you had continued," he said shaking his head. "You may be an expert in swords and pistols Señor Zorro, but as a cook you leave much to be desired."

"Believe me, Excellency, I know this to be true," said Zorro. "I thank you for rescuing the both of us from myself." He smiled as he picked up his bottle of wine, saluting the judge with it.

Despite the situation he was in, Vasca realized that he was beginning to be amused by the outlaw's roguish sense of humor. Again he wondered just who the man was behind the mask. But then he harshly reminded himself that all the evidence pointed to the fact that Zorro was the mastermind behind all of the lawlessness in the district. The evidence indicated that Zorro was involved in a plot to overthrow the lawful government of California. Eye witnesses had seen the masked bandit kidnap the child, Eduardo, from the Caldón hacienda. Eye witnesses had even seen him hijack the coach carrying Señora Santiago and saw him send her to her death over a cliff. The man seated opposite him was a murderer. Evidence at the trial had proven that Zorro was trying to secure munitions for his men he had hidden somewhere in the hills. As Vasca continued eating, he wondered to himself how such a one could be so unaffected by all he had done. Zorro seemed to be quite a charming, if roguish, young man. But Vasca could not let himself be swayed by that. He was a magistrate, interested only in the facts and the facts were that Zorro was a killer, a conspirator and a traitor. The man should be hung or shot in payment for his crimes.

As Vasca took the last tortilla and rolled it up with the last bit of his omelet, his eyes fell upon the fox handled knife lying on a rock near the fire. His eyes narrowed as he thought. Reaching over to stir the little fire again, his hand passed over the knife. When he returned to his position, he had picked up the knife, concealing it within the sleeve of his jacket. He would watch for an opportunity and then he would strike. He was not a soldier, but he knew his duty was to capture or kill the outlaw if he could, or at least wound him enough so that he could make his escape and seek help. It did not seem that Zorro had noticed what he had done, for he continued eating his meal quietly.

When they had finished their repast, Zorro stood up, saying, "Please, Your Excellency, make yourself comfortable on either of the beds you choose. I am sure that you are tired from the long ride last night. We will be resting here through the day and will continue our journey when night falls again."

Vasca looked over to the pallets and knew they would be quite lumpy, but they were quite preferable to the chair in the shack of yesterday. He was tired, but he would not let that stop him if he could find an opportunity to get away. In order to put Zorro off the scent, Vasca yawned and covered his mouth with his hand. "Yes, I would like to get some sleep," he said, getting up and moving over to the pallets. He made sure the knife remained concealed within the sleeve of his jacket as he knelt down and tried to fluff the straw and rearrange the blanket. As he was doing so, he noticed Zorro looking at the cave's entrance. Then the outlaw walked over to peer carefully outside as though looking to see if anyone was about. Silently, Zorro slipped out of the cave, leaving Vasca to suppose that he was taking a closer look around. This was his chance.

Quickly, he rose and made his way over to the entrance, keeping close to the wall of the cave on the one side where Zorro could not see him when he came back in. Vasca kept a wary eye on Tornado, but the stallion seemed to be more interested in finding any stray oats that he may have missed when he had been fed. He was nosing around the floor of the cave and so did not seem to be paying any attention to the judge. Vasca reached down and took up a handful of sand from the floor of the cave and gripped the knife tightly in the other hand. He pressed himself against the stone wall and waited. Horse or no horse, he was going to try and kill Zorro and make his escape.

He heard a soft footstep on the rocks and his breathing quickened and his heart beat strongly in his chest. As Zorro entered the cave, Vasca threw the sand into the eyes of the outlaw, who was immediately blinded. Zorro threw up his gloved hands and spun around, backing away from the perceived threat. He wiped at his eyes, trying to blink away the sand so he could see. Vasca chose that moment to charge Zorro with the knife.

Somehow Zorro managed to force his eyes open enough to see Vasca coming at him with the knife raised over his head. Still blinking and trying to see, by instinct more than anything else, Zorro grabbed the hand with the knife and stalled its downward thrust. Vasca outweighed him by considerably more than a hundred pounds and the momentum of the judge's charge rammed them into the other wall of the cave, nearly knocking the breath from Zorro. Still not able to see clearly, Zorro struggled with the judge. Vasca was quite strong for all that he was so corpulent, and he was very determined to finish what he had started. The two of them crashed back and forth against the walls of the cave while they fought for control. At last, Zorro was able to blink and clear enough of the sand from his eyes to see what he was doing. He spun the two of them around once more, pushing Vasca into the wall one last time. While the judge was off balance, Zorro reached up with both hands and applied pressure to Vasca's wrist in a manner that he was familiar with. The knife fell from Vasca's numbed fingers to clatter onto some of the stones on the floor of the cave. Zorro let go of the judge and leaped back, picking up the knife as he did so. Rubbing his eyes with the back of the hand holding the knife, he pulled his pistol with the other one and said, "Halt right there, Your Excellency."

Vasca stopped, as from behind him he heard the hard quality in Zorro's voice. He had been trying to duck out of the cave before Zorro could regain his vision and had only taken a few steps before Zorro ordered him to stop. He turned around slowly to face the outlaw. His eyes widened at the sight of the drawn pistol, but then he drew himself up to face whatever the consequences there were to his actions.

"You disappoint me, Excellency," said Zorro, holding the pistol on Vasca. "I thought we had an understanding."

"I only gave my word not to try and escape while I prepared our breakfast," said Vasca defensively. "It is my duty to escape if I can. You cannot fault me for that."

"Perhaps not, Your Excellency," said Zorro motioning with the pistol. Vasca came back into the cave. "But now I am afraid that you will have to be tied up again. I cannot risk having you get away now that we are so close to the end."

"The end of what?" demanded Vasca loudly.

"You will just have to wait and see," said Zorro. He escorted Vasca over to the makeshift beds and proceeded to tie his hands together once again. Vasca glared at him the whole time. "Your Excellency?" said Zorro, indicating that Vasca should lie down.

Grunting a little, because he was not used to sleeping on floors, Vasca knelt down and rolled onto his bedding. "After a proper trial, I will see you hang, Señor Outlaw," he growled as he looked up at the masked man.

"You will have to catch me first," said Zorro. Pointing at the judge with the pistol, Zorro said, "You will remain here until I say you can get up, Your Excellency. I do not wish to bind your feet, but I will if that is the only way to keep you from trying to escape. Do I have your word that you will remain here?"

Vasca said, "No, Señor Zorro. I will not give my word not to try and escape. I also hereby revoke my word not to cry out for help if the opportunity arises. I was mistaken to give my word to a traitorous outlaw and murderer."

"I am sorry to hear that, Excellency," said Zorro. "I had hoped we could do this without much more discomfort on your part, but I see now that this is impossible." Zorro tucked the pistol into his banda and proceeded to tie the judge's feet. Then he came and put a gag over the judge's mouth. He did not tie it tightly, but it would muffle any sounds the judge might make. He could not take any chances that someone might be passing by who would hear the judge's cries should he call out. When he was through, he rose and said, "There, that should take care of you for a while. Please try to rest, Your Excellency. You will not regret it."

Vasca made some muffled sounds beneath the gag in response, then he refused to meet Zorro's eyes any further. Shrugging, Zorro said, not unkindly, "As you wish, Excellency."

Zorro's eyes still burned with the sand in them and he had grit in his teeth. He needed to wash it out. He went and got the water canteen and, taking in a mouthful or two of water, he spat it out, trying to get the grit out of his mouth. Looking around, he picked up the now empty gourd and taking it with him, he walked the few steps to the back of the cave. He was going to use it to hold the water while he washed his eyes. To do this, he would have to take off his mask.

Curiosity gaining the upper hand, Judge Vasca turned on his bed to watch the outlaw. He saw the masked man kneel beside a low rock shelf in the back of the cave and pour water into the gourd which he then set upon the shelf. Vasca watched, wondering just what Zorro was doing. He observed closely as Zorro took off his hat and set it aside. Then the outlaw carefully turned so that his back was to the judge and he removed the bit of black cloth that concealed his identity from the world. Vasca's attention became riveted upon the mystery man. Would he at last be able to learn what no one else in all California knew? The identity of El Zorro? He watched as Zorro splashed water into his eyes over and over and then washed his whole face.

 _Turn, . . . turn, . . .turn, . . ._ Vasca chanted silently to himself as he willed Zorro to turn around even just the smallest fraction. Zorro pulled out his knife and tested its sharpness by running his thumb along its length. Then he proceeded to shave himself with the blade, using only his fingers as a guide, since he had no mirror. Vasca stared at the back of Zorro's head, willing him to slip up and turn even the tiniest bit to reveal his face. But he was disappointed. Zorro splashed his face with the last of the water in the gourd and dried his face on his sleeve. A face which was to remain a mystery. Vasca bit his lip as he watched the outlaw retie the mask securely in place. Only then did the mystery man stand and turn around to walk over to the makeshift bedding.

Seeing Vasca looking at him with so much intensity, Zorro said with a smile, "Ah, you perhaps expected that I would shave myself with this?" Here he pulled his sword partly out of its scabbard. "I would, Your Excellency, but it is so difficult to trim one's mustache properly with a blade of this length, don't you agree?" He laughed gently as Vasca tried to respond from behind the gag. He knew very well just what Vasca had hoped to see and was amused at the judge's frustration in being denied. Very deliberately, he reached up and adjusted the mask on his face a fraction. Then he gave a knowing smile to the judge. Vasca growled something beneath the gag and hitched himself to turn over on his side facing away from the outlaw. Zorro laughed. "Pleasant dreams, Your Excellency," he called over the judge's back. Vasca did not respond.

Shaking his head in amusement, Zorro went to take one more quick look outside the entrance to the cave and then passed by Tornado. Stroking the stallion on the nose, he said, "I am going to get some sleep, my friend. Watch for danger, Tornado. All right? Watch for danger." Tornado snorted and pushed Zorro with his nose. Giving his four legged friend one last pat, Zorro went to his own bed and prepared to lie down. He was not angry at Vasca for trying to escape. It was only natural. He was rather chagrined that he had not been prepared for such a surprise attack. He must be tired more tired than he thought.

Zorro pulled his bedding closer to the wall of the cave and fixed things so that he could prop his back up against a stone. This would give him an advantage in case someone were to come in. He pulled his sword and checked the priming of his pistol before sitting down and reclining against the stone. He was in no way comfortable, but he thought he would be able to sleep in this position. He was certainly tired enough. It was a few minutes before he fell asleep, but not before he heard Judge Vasca snoring gently from the other bed. As angry as the portly judge had been because he had been bound and gagged again and angry because he had been denied the chance to see the face of El Zorro, that did not keep him from falling asleep. Shifting to a more comfortable position, Zorro soon followed suit.

The two men slept peacefully as the sun sailed through the skies.


	91. B4 Ch17: On to San Pedro

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **17 – _On to San Pedro_**

Santiago had mused for long moments over the message which had been delivered to him just a few minutes before noon while he was still in his office. The peon who had delivered the folded paper had said only that an older don had given him five pesos, a fortune for someone such as he, to bring the paper to the Magistrado in Los Angeles, and he had come at once. The peon had lingered a moment after he had given the message to the Magistrado and Santiago had fished out a coin and tossed it to the man. The peon caught it deftly and bowed deeply to Santiago before trotting back to his donkey cart. He lashed the animal with his whip and was soon on his way back to San Pedro a much richer man than when he had awakened this morning. To the Magistrado, the message which had been delivered was a welcome one, coming as it did from none other than Alejandro de la Vega.

Santiago was now riding his horse in a leisurely fashion along the road returning to Los Angeles from the de la Vega hacienda. After he had read the contents of the note, he had decided to ride out to the rancho to look over his future living quarters. What he had found there was quite satisfactory. There were only a couple of older vaqueros and an old peon servant left at the hacienda. Everyone else was gone. The cattle were scattered and only the family's personal riding horses were left at the hacienda. He was quite pleased to see that Princessa was among them. As soon as he was in possession of the hacienda, he would hire servants and set things to rights. As he had mentioned to Lozano, he had some definite ideas about how he wanted to rearrange the furnishings in the house and decorate it more to his tastes. He found it very pleasant to imagine how much he was going to enjoy living in that house. He and his new wife, Leonar. Santiago smiled as he thought about the governor's daughter. He had no question but what he would soon wed Leonar, just as soon as propriety would allow. Everything else had gone as he had planned and this would be no different. The governor would see their marriage as being very suitable for his daughter, Santiago's position being elevated even more by the capture and conviction of the traitorous Diego de la Vega.

Santiago had received Lozano's report the evening before concerning Alejandro de la Vega now drowning his sorrows in the sleepy village of San Pedro. Thus, Santiago had decided to ride out to the rancho today and admire what was soon to be his new holdings. He was glad to know that de la Vega had found it necessary to abandon his home. He had himself today questioned the men remaining behind at the de la Vega hacienda and had heard how the patrón had been so distraught concerning his son's conviction and death and of his own humiliation that he had called for a horse and had ridden away leaving the rancho behind. Deserting it. The servants were fearfully certain that the old patrón would never be coming back. Pleased with himself for knowing his victim so well, Santiago had ridden away from the rancho, laughing to himself when he was out of earshot of the servants. Don Alejandro was a completely broken man.

The message Santiago had received from San Pedro was a capitulation from Don Alejandro. The old don was ready to sell the rancho and everything in it just so that he could leave California, a place where he could no longer hold his head up among his peers. He was thoroughly humiliated and dishonored by his son's actions and his heart was broken for the loss of his son by suicide, possibly a worse death than hanging would have been. There was no place left in California for Don Alejandro where he would not be reminded of his traitorous son and his humiliation.

Don Alejandro's message had said to meet him in San Pedro at midnight tonight and they would consummate the sale. Santiago wondered why the late hour and then decided that the old hacendado did not want others to know of the transaction until he had his money and was able to slink away without any one the wiser. He would just take his money and disappear, leaving Santiago in possession of the rancho. He had sent Lozano ahead to San Pedro to shadow Don Alejandro throughout the day. Don Alejandro might be a broken old man, but he could still be unpredictable. Santiago wanted no surprises.

Santiago found the ride in the late afternoon sun to be quite pleasant as he thought about all of his accomplishments. He wondered just how far he could have gotten in the Spanish hierarchy of the mother land had he remained in Spain. Were it not for his misfortune not to have been born into one of the premier bloodlines of Spanish nobility, he might have risen to the highest levels there. But he had made something of himself in this new land and he was going to become the most powerful man in all California before this was over. He was well on his way. If he continued to be careful and prudent, no one would be able to stop him until it was too late. One day, all of the land that surrounded him now would be his. Looking about, he noticed the tops of some dark clouds on the southwestern horizon. It appeared to be raining well out over the ocean. He could not see the water from here, but it was not so far as the crow flies. The clouds were not drifting his way, so he paid them scant attention. It was still fair here on the outskirts of Los Angeles, and he felt that his future prospects were as bright as the sunlight which fell upon his face. Nothing could mar the near perfection of this day. He urged his horse onward toward Los Angeles.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

The wind swirled around Don Alejandro as he made his way down the street. In a back alley, two cats were snarling and spitting at each other, while across the way, a shutter rattled and banged against a building. Don Alejandro pulled his cloak closer around him as he walked swiftly on. There was no moon tonight and the darkness was almost complete. He had spent the rest of the day and into the night at the little tavern beneath the tree, playing his by now despised part as the grieving father. This night he had played the part sullenly, not speaking a word and not drinking very much. Not drinking was his own innovation. Everyone stayed away from him and talked in whispers behind his back. That is, those who cared to come to the little tavern. Don Alejandro was afraid he had worn out his welcome there just as he had tried Tio's patience back in Los Angeles. The storms, which had been brewing off shore all day, were coming closer and Don Alejandro decided that he would rather be in his ramshackle dwelling than in the little tavern under the tree. Low rumbles of thunder echoed through the streets.

The house with the peeling red door was dark when Don Alejandro entered. He fumbled for a moment and found a match with which to light the single candle on the wall sconce in the front room. Pushing the curtain aside, he stepped into the second room which had the candelabra and lit those candles also. Removing his cloak, he tossed it on the cot in the third and last room of the house. Pulling his watch from his pocket, he saw that he had several hours before Santiago was due to arrive. It was only a little after nine o'clock. _So much longer to wait,_ he thought grimly to himself. He was unarmed and that made him very uneasy. He was to meet Santiago here in order to iron out the details of the sale of his lands to the Magistrado. Only . . . there would be no sale. _This had better work,_ he threatened Zorro in his mind. He was committed to their plan, but so much could go wrong.

Don Alejandro looked around. There was nothing for him to do to occupy himself until the midnight hour, so he decided to lay down on the cot and rest. He left the candle lit in the front room of the house and blew out all but one of the candles on the candelabra. Then he went and lay down upon the cot, drawing his cloak over himself. Despite his resolve to stay awake, he at last drifted off into a restless sleep.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Zorro hitched the horses to the carriage and led them around so that they turned the carriage within the cave to point in the right direction. This was a delicate operation and took all his concentration. However, he had no doubts concerning the security of his guest, for Judge Vasca was quite tied up at the moment. Both men had awakened well before the setting of the sun and Zorro had removed the rope from around Vasca's feet and the gag from his mouth so that the judge could take care of his needs and eat something. All they had was more of the prepared food that Zorro had brought with him, food upon which Vasca had already passed judgement back at the little shack. But they did have more wine with which to wash it down. This was probably the meal's only saving grace, thought Zorro as he watched the judge choke down the food. Vasca remained silent, though his eyes spoke volumes as to what he would like to do if he could see his captor as the captive in the cuartel jail. When the meal was complete, Zorro had once again bound the judge's feet and replaced the gag. He very much hated having to treat the judge in this manner, but he could not take a chance that his excellency would spoil the only chance he had to clear Diego de la Vega and show Santiago for the man he really was.

But now it was time to go. Zorro went to the judge and pulled out the watch from Vasca's pocket and checked the time. It was nearly eleven o'clock. By the time he got the judge loaded in the carriage and made the final miles to the village, it would be the appointed hour. Zorro tucked the watch back into Vasca's pocket and went once more to the back of the cave, pulling from its sandy concealment a canvas bundle which he took to the carriage. These were the pistols and muskets he hoped would not be necessary, but he was taking them as a precaution. Carefully, he took them out of the sack and placed them under the seat of the carriage where they could be easily found. Then he went and saddled Tornado, giving the stallion a quick once over to make sure that he was in good shape, checking each hoof in its turn for any stones or a loose shoe. Everything was fine. Giving the stallion a final pat, he went over to the judge, removing the ropes binding his feet once again.

"All right, Your Excellency, it is time to go," he said in rather serious tones. "If you please, would you be so good as to climb into the carriage?" he asked. He helped the judge get up and then had to help him into the carriage. Vasca still remained completely silent behind his gag, but he watched Zorro's every move. Zorro decided that it was best not to agitate the judge any more than he had to, so he refrained from jesting with the portly magistrate as he had done previously. It was now a serious time and he would focus on that. Vasca settled himself in the carriage and continued to follow Zorro with his eyes. He could not speak, but he really did not need to. His eyes spoke for him.

At last, Zorro checked his sword and pistol one more time and then drew on his cape, tying the cords around his neck. He climbed into the carriage beside the judge and urged the horse team to start out of the cave. "Tornado. Follow me," he said to the stallion. Tornado fell in behind the carriage. As they pulled out of the cave and into the darkness, both men could see the flashes of lightning from the storms just off shore. Now that they were out of the cave, they could hear the distant thunder. It had not yet started to rain and Zorro hoped the storms would hold off until everything was resolved. It would add insult to injury if Vasca were to be soaked before he could be taken to the little house with the red door tonight. Zorro could not imagine that it would improve the judge's mood one bit. He urged the horses on into the night.


	92. B4 Ch18: The Serpent Revealed

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **18 – _The Serpent Revealed_**

Don Alejandro woke with a start. How long had he been asleep? Rubbing his face and running his fingers through his disheveled hair, he took a long, deep breath and then sat up, pushing his cloak aside. In order to see the watch he pulled from his pocket, he stood up to go into the other room where the candle was still burning. He was brought to a stop by what he saw in the central room of the house. All of the candles in the candelabra had been lit, giving the room a warm glow.

Santiago was seated next to the old, worn table in one of the two chairs in the room, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. Señor Lozano stood just behind him and to the side with saddlebags draped over his left arm. He was wearing a sword as well. A valise rested on the table next to the candelabra. From the look of the smile on the Magistrado's face, Don Alejandro was certain both men had thoroughly examined the building and the environs before he had awakened in order to make sure that they would be alone. That is why Zorro could not come before now. He could not risk discovery before Don Alejandro could meet with Santiago. How Zorro would be able to enter the building unheard and take up his position was still unknown to Don Alejandro. He would not be able to tell if Zorro was there or not, and must play out his part with only his hopes to sustain him. If Zorro failed to come, then what he was about to do would assure his own death.

Santiago spoke first. "Ah, Don Alejandro, do come in." He waved his hand to indicate the ramshackle house they were in as he said, "You have chosen well, Señor. No one knows we are here and we are not likely to be disturbed as we conduct our business. Our friend Señor Lozano has made sure of this. Please, be seated. Lozano, pour the wine. Don Alejandro looks as if he could use a drink." Santiago smiled with a peculiar glint in his eye, which was not lost on Don Alejandro, who self-consciously ran his hands over his rumpled and wine stained clothing. Lozano produced two glasses and a bottle of wine from the saddlebag.

Determined to play his part to the hilt, Don Alejandro seated himself as the wine was being poured. He grabbed the glass and downed the wine in one swallow, wiping his lips with the back of his sleeve. Lozano refilled the glass.

"What is he doing here?" Don Alejandro asked, looking at Lozano. "Don't tell me he is interested in my health again."

"Let us just say that Señor Lozano is a business associate of mine," said Santiago with a smile. "You may rest assured that he has my every confidence." Don Alejandro shrugged and drank more wine.

Santiago smiled again. He saw a man who was spiraling downwards toward drunkenness and despair . . . and possibly death. _Getting the rancho away from him is going to be easy,_ he thought. Just a few words, a few moments, and the de la Vega lands would be his. This broken old man would be no match for him tonight. He spoke. "Don Alejandro, I am glad that you have decided to meet with me. I know these last weeks have been difficult for you with all that has happened. Once again, you must believe me when I say that I am truly sorry I had to be the one to prosecute the case against your son. I had to perform my duty as an officer of the king. You understand that, do you not?"

Don Alejandro looked at him through bleary eyes. It was evident that he had not slept well for a long time even though he had been asleep when Santiago had entered the house.

"Yes, yes, it was your duty, Señor Magistrado," Don Alejandro said in resigned tones, looking down at the glass of wine in his hands. "You did what you had to do. I know that. I do not care to discuss that subject any further." He lapsed into silence, just staring at his glass. Was he overplaying his part, he wondered? He did not wish to do anything to make the Magistrado suspicious. He looked up at Santiago and decided he was all right for the moment. The Magistrado was sipping his own glass of wine and looking decidedly content.

Outside, in the darkness, Zorro and his prisoner had pulled into the town in the carriage. Quietly he drove down the back alleys, making his way towards the house with the red door. The lightning and the thunder were a little closer now, and it seemed that the storm might break at any time. As soon as the back of the house was in sight, Zorro jumped out of the carriage and helped Judge Vasca to do the same.

Zorro could tell that Vasca was fuming. His eyes were bulging angrily above the gag in his mouth. Once again wishing that there had been another way, Zorro pulled his sword and pointed it at Vasca's throat. The time for all levity was over. This was deadly serious business.

"Excellency," he said firmly, "I have no wish to harm you, as I have said. But you will go where I say, do what I say and remain silent, or it will be the worse for you. Now come." Turning to the stallion who had followed them, he said, "Tornado, stay here." Taking hold of Vasca's arm, he propelled the portly man down the alley. Quickly, they reached the back of the house.

Still holding the sword pointed at Vasca, Zorro reached over and quietly pulled three planks away from the side of the building to make an entrance. He had loosened them previously as there was no back door to the house. He peered inside. Good. Nothing looked disturbed and there was no one in the room containing the little cot. Taking Vasca's arm once again, he pushed him into the building, causing him to bend over to keep from bumping his head and then followed close behind him. He forced Vasca to kneel on the rough flooring so that they could see and hear through the wooden grating between the rooms.

Vasca's eyes met Zorro's as he realized just who was in the room on the opposite side of the grating. Zorro kept his sword poised at Vasca's throat to insure his silence. Vasca looked at him for another moment and then turned back to look through the partition again. Zorro looked beyond the wooden grating at his father. _All right, Father,_ he thought. _This is it. Play your part well._

"Well then," Santiago was saying, "since doing my duty is not an issue between us, let us get to the business at hand, shall we? I trust you are ready to accept my offer?"

Don Alejandro had to clear his throat a couple of times before he could speak. "Señor Santiago, I have been thinking about your proposal. It does not seem fair to me now." Santiago's smile faded. "My home, my lands, and my cattle are worth far more than your offer. If I am to leave this place, I will not leave it as a pauper. I cannot consider selling to you for less than twice the amount that you offered, and even at that you will be paying far less than it is worth."

Santiago was annoyed. "Come, Don Alejandro, my offer is more than generous. If I may be blunt, you know there is no one else who will buy from the man who sired a traitor. You want the money so that you can leave California and your humiliation behind. Very well. I am offering to buy your property."

Pulling some papers out of his valise, he continued. "Sign these now and the money is yours. You can sail on the next ship." He placed the papers on the table in front of Don Alejandro. Lozano produced a pen and an ink well from his saddlebags and placed them on the table next to Don Alejandro's hand.

Don Alejandro became adamant. "No, Señor. I cannot sell for this ridiculous amount. If you want the land, you know my price." He pushed the pen and papers away from him. _Zorro, are you there?_ he wondered anxiously to himself.

Santiago was angry now, but did his best to conceal it. "Don Alejandro. Consider your position. I want to help you, truly I do. Just sign the papers and this money is yours on the instant." He nodded to Lozano, who pulled a heavy leather pouch from his saddlebags and placed it on the table in front of Don Alejandro. The clinking sounds it made bespoke of its contents.

Don Alejandro glared at Santiago and said, "No. I will find someone else to sell my land to. You mock me with your offer. I thought you were an honorable man, Señor. But I see that this is not so. You may leave now, Señor Magistrado, and take your money and your lackey Lozano with you." He kept his eyes on Santiago, though, in the back of his mind, he was praying that Zorro was near.

Santiago was at the end of his patience. "You will sign these papers now. I have wasted enough time with you. Sign them!"

Don Alejandro sat up straight in his chair, mustering all the dignity he possessed. "You cannot force me to sign, Señor," he said. "I will never accept such a low price for my land."

Santiago felt his anger rising. Why was the old man being so obstinate? The pitiful man before him was an empty husk, ready to be crushed. Leaning forward, his hand upon the hilt of his sword, he said, "You think not, Señor? I think that you will accept . . . or perhaps . . . just perhaps, certain allegations will arise requiring my special attention. Do you understand me?"

Don Alejandro knew perfectly well what the Magistrado meant, but did not let on. "What do you mean, Señor?" he asked, feigning innocence. "What allegations?"

Reining himself in, Santiago said, "Let us say that certain allegations showing, that indeed, you were intimately involved with your son's treason may suddenly find their way to the surface. You would not want such foul things to be aired, now would you?" He paused to gauge the effect of his words. From the dark look on Don Alejandro's face, he knew that he had struck a chord.

"I do not like the tone of your conversation," said Don Alejandro, testily.

Pushing, Santiago continued. "There may be those . . . who will make certain allegations that you indeed approved of and gave safe harbor to your son, Diego, and to that outlaw Zorro while they laid their plans to take over California. Evidence and witnesses to support those allegations will soon be 'found' if you understand my meaning, Señor. All of this is quite possible if you do not sign, Señor de la Vega." Santiago pushed the papers back towards Don Alejandro.

Don Alejandro stood, knocking his chair back a pace. "You mean to accuse me of treason?" he said with vehemence. "You have no evidence. No one will believe you!"

Santiago stood also, his patience truly at an end. "You think not, old man?" he said. "They believed it about your son didn't they? Even you believed the accusations against your son. If he can be convicted of treason on the evidence I 'collected', so can you." In more conciliatory tones, he said, "Don Alejandro. Please. Sign these documents. Take the money and go. Make this easier on all of us." Locking eyes with the old don, he willed him to break down and sign the papers.

"Never!" proclaimed Don Alejandro, raking the papers from the table onto the floor. Then he peered at Santiago through narrowed eyes. In tones of pure disbelief, he said, "Are you saying that you created the evidence against Diego, Señor Magistrado? That he was really innocent and you had him convicted on false charges?"

Affronted by Don Alejandro's action and reacting angrily to the old man's stubbornness, Santiago snapped, "Yes, old man, I did . . . ," before he could stop himself.

"What?" exclaimed Don Alejandro.

Santiago ground his teeth. The old don was just as naive as his son had been. Perhaps more. This was not how he had wanted to handle the situation. He had reacted in anger against the old man's stubbornness. Gripping the hilt of his sword, he realized there was no turning back. Don Alejandro would now have to be eliminated. He knew too much. Despite his downward spiral, he had too much power and influence still remaining to him and could expose Santiago and his schemes if he was not eliminated.

Pulling his sword, Santiago pointed it at Don Alejandro's breast and the older man looked down upon it with widened eyes, which then narrowed in anger.

In the back room, Zorro watched as Judge Vasca hung on every word being said. He was very proud of his father's performance. Don Alejandro was playing his part perfectly. Bit by bit he was inducing Santiago into admitting what he had done. And the judge was missing none of it. He returned his attention to the other room. The situation was becoming more dangerous for his father by the moment.

Looking back up at Santiago, Don Alejandro declared angrily, "My son was innocent of the charges of treason. You set him up!"

Now that everything was in the open, Santiago's perverse nature asserted itself then. He became amused at the sight of the defiant old man with his wild hair and wine stained clothing, and he decided he would enjoy watching Don Alejandro's reactions as he explained the trap which had destroyed his son Diego, and as he told the old man just how he had been duped.

Holding the sword at Don Alejandro's breast, he said, "Yes, Señor de la Vega, I manipulated your Diego. I caused him to think he was helping me when I chose him as my assistant deputy." Santiago laughed.

He continued. "Your son was such an idealist, a dreamer, de la Vega. He wanted equal treatment and justice for all. How easy it was to dupe the boy by showing him a Magistrado who appeared to believe as he did. He was more than happy to go where I told him and do all that I asked of him in the cause of justice. I made sure that my operatives took full advantage of this naivety to set him up on the charges of treason. Diego knew nothing of the world of intrigue and fell right into my trap. Really, Don Alejandro. How did you come to have such a son? He was truly helpless. And now he is dead by his own hand. He was so soft that he could not face life in exile without his father's wealth and influence to ease the way. I must confess that I am quite surprised that he was able to find the courage to kill himself." Santiago laughed again as Don Alejandro scowled and ground his teeth.

Don Alejandro knew that Santiago did not know Diego was still alive. Only that thought kept him from leaping on Santiago with his bare hands for what he had dared to do to his son. But there was more to be learned here. The one question which had not been answered. Restraining his temper as well as he could, Don Alejandro looked down at the tip of the sword pressed against his breast and then back at Santiago.

"You obviously plan to kill me, Señor," he stated. Spreading his hands apart, he asked, "But why? Why have you done this thing? Why did you have Diego convicted of treason.? Why did you wish him dead?"

Santiago saw no reason to keep his secrets from this man soon to be dead as well. Taking the point of his sword away from Don Alejandro's heart, Santiago motioned for Lozano to guard the older man. Lozano pulled his own sword and stood ready. Speaking to Don Alejandro, Santiago said, "I have seen the future, de la Vega." Pointing to the east with his sword, he continued, "I have been to the United States of America and have seen with my own eyes the westward expansion that is taking place. Already the Americanos fill the land east of the Mississippi River. The Americanos are many, and they are hungry for land. They will soon cast their eyes toward California and those who control the land here will be able to sell it to them and make a fortune."

"But California is still a colony of Spain," declared Don Alejandro. "His Majesty will never allow this!"

Santiago laughed. "You patriotic fool. The King of Spain has more trouble than he can handle in Europe just now. Do you think he cares what happens to the backwaters of his shrinking empire? Do you think he can do anything to stop the Americanos? Mexico has won her independence from Spain, but they are weak compared the Americanos. No, Don Alejandro, the King can do nothing and the Americanos will come."

"How does the conviction of my son help you?" Don Alejandro asked.

 _"You_ were the key, de la Vega, not your son. I would just as soon have had you convicted, but you are a powerful man here in this part of California. It was just fortune that I found your son a better target. He had certain . . . weaknesses I was able to exploit."

"Weaknesses?" said Don Alejandro through clenched teeth.

Santiago smiled. "Weaknesses, yes. As I have said, he was an idealist. A dreamer. He had such romantic notions of the sanctity of the law and justice. My motto of 'Justice is served' was just the thing he wanted to hear. It was known that he was a disappointment to you since his return from Spain for his, shall we say, lack of interest in the rancho and for his lack of interest in the manly arts. He would rather talk than fight." Santiago's smile grew as he watched Don Alejandro drop his eyes at this statement. "You know this to be true," he said.

Don Alejandro returned to glare up at Santiago. Yes, he knew what kind of son he had. But he could not let Santiago see in his eyes the new acceptance he had for Diego. He must continue to play his part.

Santiago continued. "You are a tough old wolf, but the young pup was vulnerable. I realized that he was your weakness, for you still love your son deeply for all his faults." Don Alejandro raised his chin as he met Santiago's eyes. "You see, I am right in this also." He laughed condescendingly. "I took a closer look at Diego. As I looked into his background and asked questions, I found out about his house guest, The Eagle. I found out that the outlaw, Zorro, was also seen at your hacienda at the same time. It was simple to make allegations of collusion between the three of them."

"But all the charges are false," said Don Alejandro in more of a statement than a question.

"Concerning your son, of course. Concerning the real Zorro, who knows and who cares? His replacement served my purpose."

"The real Zorro?" questioned Don Alejandro. "Replacement?"

In the small back room, Zorro was silently cheering for his father. He was so proud of him for drawing out all the information needed to clear both Diego and Zorro before Judge Vasca. Santiago was in the mood for boasting and his father was taking full advantage of this.

Santiago shrugged. "Another of my operatives, de la Vega. A simple matter of the right clothing, a black horse, and poof, you have another Zorro. One who would do my bidding."

"Then you have no proof that the real Zorro intends to overthrow the government?" Don Alejandro asked, trying to draw as much information out of Santiago as he could.

Santiago waived his hand dismissively. "He was a convenient pawn in my plans. As far as I know, the real Zorro was merely some local nabob who fancied himself some sort of heroic figure, riding around in the dark, brandishing his sword. But I think that he has gone away or he must be dead, since he has not been seen for some time, even before I came here. And even if he is alive somewhere, he cannot come forth to defend himself against my charges without being killed, and I use that to my benefit."

From behind the grating, Judge Vasca turned his head to look at Zorro and their eyes met. There was an understanding forming in Vasca's eyes. Zorro could see there was no longer any hostility gleaming at him from their depths. Zorro nodded his head to acknowledge Vasca's change in attitude and let the point of his sword drop away. They both returned their attention to the men in the other room.

"So when it was told that Zorro murdered your wife, it was your man, the false Zorro, who did the foul deed," Don Alejandro speculated. "It was at your command that poor, frail Gracilia died."

"You catch on quickly, Señor," said Santiago in a condescending tone. He laughed when Don Alejandro scowled. "I had no need for a useless wife. One who filled my days and nights with her moanings and thrashings," he said. "After a suitable period of mourning, I will find me a lively wife, one who will bear me many children."

Behind the wall, Judge Vasca started as he heard this revelation. He darted a look at Zorro and the masked man nodded to him to show that he had known this all along. Vasca gazed at the outlaw for a moment longer and then returned to look through the grate with renewed interest, to hear what else might be revealed.

"You are despicable," said Don Alejandro, almost spitting out the words. _Are you listening, Judge Vasca?_ Don Alejandro wondered to himself. _Are you there in the darkness behind that wall? Do you see what kind of evil this man is capable of doing?_ He decided to continue to draw out what he could from the Magistrado while he still could.

"But still you have not made me understand why you attacked me and my family," said Don Alejandro. "Surely you could have purchased other properties legally if you wished to own land. Why did you want mine?"

"You are the largest and most powerful landowner in the district, de la Vega. Everyone looks to you in times of trouble. As Magistrado, it was easy to manipulate Diego, to set up meetings with the wrong people, to plant damning evidence upon his person. My operatives within the garrison of Santa Barbara made sure that he was arrested when those items had been transferred to him by the false Zorro and Don Alfredo, your dearest friend, became my star witness." Santiago laughed while Don Alejandro fumed. Santiago continued.

"With the threat of another usurper looming over them and the resumption of civil disruption, the dons and rancheros would be demoralized once again. The memory of the Eagle's conspiracy is still fresh on their minds. Therefore, if I can get you to sell out, then the others will lose their courage and follow. Without you to lead them, they will want nothing more than to flee California as well."

"And then you can legally buy their land for next to nothing, just as you would have bought mine," said Don Alejandro. "Very clever."

Santiago bowed mockingly. "Graciás, Señor."

Don Alejandro was through. If Zorro was behind the wall with the judge as he had promised, they had surely heard enough by now. It was time to end this. Don Alejandro drew himself up. "Just how do you plan to explain my death?" he asked as he glared at Santiago. By the Saints, he would not go down without a fight, Zorro or no Zorro.

"Ah, there is a little fire left in you after all, de la Vega," said Santiago, as he toyed with his sword and smiled condescendingly at Don Alejandro. "If you had been a harder and colder man, I could not have pulled this off." Don Alejandro glowered at the remark. "But I knew that the death or even the exile of your son as a traitor would be your undoing. And I was right. Look at you." Don Alejandro looked down at his rumpled clothing. "Look at how you have been living since the trial and since word of Diego's pitiful suicide. You have abandoned your rancho and have taken to the wine bottle for the scarce comfort it offers. Your love for your son was your undoing. You ask how I will explain your death, Señor?"

Santiago pointed his sword directly at Don Alejandro as he said, "Suicide is often the method of choice when men of your station can no longer face life and its humiliations. Your son has gone before and set the example for you. Yes, suicide will make a most convincing story. Poor Don Alejandro," intoned Santiago with a pious look on his face. "In his despair, he killed himself. But wait. A few days later, as the Magistrado goes through the dead man's papers in order to settle the estate, he finds incriminating evidence that Don Alejandro himself was involved in the conspiracy. So, as it turns out, Don Alejandro was a traitor also. He killed himself rather than to be exposed for what he was. A traitor and the father of a traitor." Santiago smiled. "A convincing story, is it not?" he asked Don Alejandro. "And it will serve my purposes just as if you had signed your land over to me, for as Magistrado I will confiscate the traitor's lands and award them to . . . myself."

Santiago laughed as Don Alejandro fumed and struggled against Lozano, who had grabbed and restrained the elderly man who wanted nothing more than to get his hands around Santiago's neck. Santiago sheathed his sword with a snap.

Zorro knew the time for him to act had come. He had only moments. Looking at Judge Vasca, he said softly, "Excellency?" Vasca's eyes locked with his and he nodded. Quickly, Zorro cut Vasca's bonds, leaving him to untie the gag from around his mouth. Zorro moved back a bit and prepared to lunge through the grating.


	93. B4 Ch19: Flashing Blades

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **19 – _Flashing Blades_**

In the central room, Santiago's face had hardened. He said, "Lozano, hand me your pistol. After I kill him, take the body and dump it in the alley next to the main street where someone is bound to find it. Place the pistol in his hand to make it appear that he killed himself." Santiago took the pistol and leveled it at Don Alejandro who had been pushed back against the wall by Lozano's sword at his breast. At that moment, Zorro crashed through the wooden grating head first, rolling once and gaining his feet in an instant. With his sword, he slashed upward, striking Santiago's pistol just as it fired. Plaster rained down from the hole in the ceiling made by the bullet. Before Lozano could move, Zorro's sword flashed again, slashing the operative on the arm, just above the elbow. Lozano staggered, dropping his own sword. The immediate danger to his father over, Zorro turned to face Santiago.

Behind him, Don Alejandro scooped up Lozano's fallen sword, but there was no need for it. Holding his arm, Lozano avoided the elder don and scrambled away to run out the front door of the building. Don Alejandro's attention was pulled back to Zorro as the masked man faced the Magistrado who had stepped back to give himself room and had drawn his own sword.

Keeping his eyes upon Santiago, Zorro spoke over his shoulder to Don Alejandro without turning his head. "Señor de la Vega. This is between the two of us. Leave and take Judge Vasca with you. He is in the room in back." Santiago's head snapped up at this revelation and his eyes narrowed. Zorro continued speaking to his father. "You have what you want now, Señor. Your son is cleared of all charges of treason. You must protect Judge Vasca."

"No, Señor Zorro," said Don Alejandro, stepping up and grabbing Zorro's arm. "Let me be the one to fight Santiago. It was my son he forced into exile, it was my heart he tore asunder, leaving me to think my son a traitor, it was my lands he tried to steal from me. Let me have my vengeance!" His anger grew even more as he watched the leering face of Santiago.

With a suddenness that surprised him, Don Alejandro found himself forced back against the wall once more. This time it was Zorro who held him there with a forearm across his chest as the masked man divided his attention between him and Santiago.

"Listen to me, Señor," said Zorro in a deadly quiet voice. "You cannot kill him. In all candor, you are no match for him. Judge Vasca is in the next room where he has been watching. You must protect him at all costs. You must get him away from here. Do you understand? Lozano will not be far away and without Judge Vasca, Diego's name can never be cleared and he will be disgraced forever. That is your first responsibility."

"But . . ."

"No arguments, Señor. Go!" Zorro's voice thundered in the room. Don Alejandro dropped the point of his sword. He was forced to agree with Zorro even though it went against his soul to do so.

Santiago was taking all of this in. He looked at the man in black standing before him. This was the real Zorro. Of that there was no doubt in his mind. He had a certain presence that other men lacked and Don Alejandro had acknowledged him by name. But now he had a question of his own. Why was the man here, now? Obviously he was helping Don Alejandro clear his son's name with Judge Vasca, but why had he waited so long? Where had he been that he had not come to the younger de la Vega's aid before he was exiled? Where had he been? As much as he wanted to know, Santiago took that moment to attack. He would kill them both and sort out the questions later.

Santiago's first thrust was at Don Alejandro, but Zorro's sword met and deflected Santiago's sword. "Go!" repeated Zorro as he squared off against Santiago and they exchanged a few parries. Don Alejandro ran over to the door leading to the back room. Just as he got there, Judge Vasca opened it.

"Señor Magistrado, you will cease!" ordered Vasca in a thunderous voice, clearly expecting to be obeyed. "You are under arrest!"

Santiago stepped back and laughed. "You think to arrest me? A fat judge, an old man, and an outlaw? You forget that I have help in the form of Lozano, and as soon as he is able to get some more of my operatives together, he will be back. None of you will leave San Pedro alive."

Zorro spoke. "Judge Vasca, you must leave here and Don Alejandro must go with you. The Magistrado obeys no laws but his own. He is right. Lozano will soon return with more men. You must go. _Now!_ I will make sure that the Magistrado does not follow." He raised the point of his sword between Santiago and himself.

Don Alejandro put his hand on the judge's arm. Indicating Zorro, he said, "He is right, Your Excellency. We must go. Come."

"But this man must stand trial for his crimes," said Vasca, still looking at Santiago.

"Do not worry, Your Excellency," said Zorro with a little smile. "I will ensure that _justice is served_."

"You will not kill him?" Vasca questioned, noting the tone of Zorro's voice behind that little smile.

"Your Excellency, I can only promise you that justice will be done. There is much the Magistrado must answer for, and not all of it falls under your jurisdiction. Now, please, go!" Zorro was getting weary of trying to get the two men to leave. And he was worried that Lozano would have had time enough to gather his men. So he turned his sword on the judge and pressed the tip of it against the portly man's chest. He pushed.

Vasca had no choice but to step back or be run through. Don Alejandro pulled him by his arm into the back room. Together they hurried out of the opening in the back of the building, where the crashing of the thunder could he be heard coming closer and closer. In the flashes of lightning, they could see the carriage which was still where Zorro had left it. The horses snorted and danced nervously in their traces, frightened by the storm and the abrupt appearance of the two men. Don Alejandro went around to help Judge Vasca get in and discovered two muskets and two pistols lying in the floor of the carriage. Two powder horns and two bags of bullets were there also. Blessing Zorro for his foresight, Don Alejandro ran back around the carriage and gathered the reins as he got in beside Judge Vasca. Grabbing the whip, he sent the horses racing down the alley with the carriage careening behind them. It was only by a miracle that he kept it from smashing into the walls of the alley. Judge Vasca hung on for dear life. Left behind, Tornado snorted and pawed the ground in excitement. But he had been told by his master to wait and so held his ground.

Santiago heard the sounds of a wagon or carriage out in the alley and the voice of Don Alejandro as he shouted at the horses. He could tell that Zorro was listening to those same sounds. Santiago wasted no time in attacking masked man while his attention was divided. Zorro barely managed to deflect Santiago's sword and leaped back across the room to gain some space between them. His foot caught the leg of one of the chairs, which caused him to stumble. Santiago was on him instantly. Zorro heard the sound of tearing material as Santiago's sword sliced a hole in his cape, the blade passing through the space between Zorro's chest and his arm, right beside his heart. He slashed with his own sword at Santiago and was gratified to see the Magistrado jump back out of reach. Flipping his cape up and over his left forearm as was his custom, Zorro prepared to attack.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Santiago now faced a man whom he thought had vanished from California. That this was the real Zorro, he would not deny. His ability with the sword was proved in the first few exchanges between them. Santiago was angry that this man had chosen to interfere with his carefully prepared plans. He had planned everything so meticulously and well. Just who did this masked bandit think he was that he would interfere? Santiago was chagrined with himself that he had not given more thought to finding out just who the real Zorro was and where he might be found. But, the outlaw had not been seen for more than a year. Who would have thought that he might return? And why, when the false Zorro began to appear, robbing and killing people, had not the real Zorro made an appearance? Where had he been hiding all this time? It was a mystery. Well, he would take the time to dispatch the outlaw now and it would make no difference. This Zorro's body would disappear and Santiago's next chosen operative would take his place. Having a Zorro at his command was too much of an advantage to do without.

Even as they thrust at each other with their swords and parried time and again, Santiago studied the man before him. The mask covered most of his features and yet something seemed quite familiar about him. But he was sure that he had never met this man before. He would have remembered such a man as this. One who could match him as a masterswordsman and one in whom there would be no turning away until one of them was dead. He could see the deadly resolve in the eyes behind the mask and in the firm set of his mouth.

Little by little, Santiago forgot the immediacy of his anger as he began to relish the swordplay between them. He was sure Lozano would come back shortly with his operatives, and then he could be sent to dispatch the two old men. Six against two should be sufficient odds to insure the deaths of old de la Vega and that meddlesome judge before they could reach help. Santiago would personally see to the demise of the man who now fought him so well.

Back and forth around the little room they went, each man having to watch out for the low ceiling and the sparse bits of furniture which lay in disarray around them. One stumble or an accidental striking of the ceiling would spell death for either man as his opponent would take advantage of the opportunity immediately. There was no room for error.

Santiago was also peripherally aware that the storm, which had threatened all the night, had broken, and now the vast display of thunder and lightning was a counterpoint to their fight. The sound of their swords clashing together was swallowed up in the tremendous, pealing thunder and the drumming of the rain which pummeled the rooftop. The flashes of lightning illuminated the interior of the small house even through the shuttered windows. This gave his opponent an otherworldly appearance in his black mask and clothing. Santiago did not let this unnerve him. Zorro was just a man as he was. Santiago continued to defend and attack, meeting his foe blow for blow. He thought of how most of the men whom he had faced in swordplay would have been disarmed or would have surrendered by now. Capitán Hidalgo had been good, but this outlaw was better. He was as quick and smooth in his way as was Santiago, and his sword arm was powerful. When Santiago blocked the masked man's ripostes, he felt the blows all the way down to his bones. His admiration for the masked outlaw's ability was growing by the moment.

Santiago tore down the curtain in the doorway as their fight swirled into the front room of the house, and he flung it into a corner to get it out of his way. It was darker in this room, as there was only the one candle on the wall sconce to provide any light. The lightning flashes coming in through the windows threw everything repeatedly into bright and stark relief. This made things even more dangerous, as the flashes made it difficult for the eyes to adjust from the bright light to the dim light again and again. The blade of a sword is a very fine line in the darkness and it took all of Santiago's skill to parry Zorro's attacks. His admiration grew once again as Zorro, in his turn, parried all of Santiago's forays. Santiago came to know that this fight was the ultimate challenge he would ever face. Here was a man every bit as skilled as himself, one that could meet him move for move. He smiled to himself even as he fell back before the masked man's newest attack. How delicious it was going to be when he ultimately defeated this outlaw. And defeat him he would. Santiago never entertained the merest thought that he would be defeated. He was better than the finest masters in Spain, was he not? The outlaw was good, very good, but he, too, would fall before the sword of Jorgé Martinez Santiago. It could end no other way.

As the fight progressed, Santiago ended up moving around the room until his back was to the front door of the house. Zorro was still pressing him hard, their swords moving with the same blinding speed as the lightning in the heavens above. As they fought on, suddenly the front door of the house burst open and the wind and blowing mists from the rain gusted into the room.

Zorro leaped back to stand in the doorway leading to the central room, his sword poised.

Santiago lowered the point of his sword as he glanced at the men who had entered, all of them dripping from the rain. Each of them had a pistol pulled and pointed at Zorro.

Santiago quickly held up his hand. "No, Lozano! Do not shoot," he ordered.

"Magistrado?" said Lozano, clearly puzzled. He lowered the pistol he held in his left hand. A bandage was tied around the wound in his right arm and he still favored it.

"I will take care of this one," he said, pointing in Zorro's direction with his sword. "I want you and your men to find and kill old Don Alejandro and that fat judge Vasca. They left in a wagon together. You will have no trouble catching up to them before they can reach Los Angeles. Go now and do not waste any more time here."

"I would not be so swift to discount what Don Alejandro is capable of doing," said Zorro from across the room. "He is a fighter and will not die easily." Zorro knew his father would fight to the last if he were cornered. Pointing his own sword in the direction of Lozano and his men, he spoke with a hard edge to his voice, "But, if anything happens to either of those two men, I will find each of you and you will die." He was gratified to see the men look at each other nervously.

Santiago laughed. "That is, of course, only if you have killed me first and that is not likely to happen, Señor Zorro, now is it?" In answer, Zorro bowed slightly from the waist. His smile was one of confidence in his own abilities. Keeping his eyes on Zorro, Santiago said over his shoulder, "Go now. We will meet in Los Angeles when this is over. Go!"

Lozano beckoned to his men with his pistol and they all left the room. But he paused at the door's threshold, not sure if he should leave. A simple bullet in the masked man's head or his heart, and the matter of this particular Zorro would be resolved. He raised his pistol.

Santiago struck it down with his sword. "No, Lozano. You will leave this man to me. He is mine. Go and do what I have ordered."

Lozano acknowledged his orders and said, "Sí, Magistrado. I will go." With a last glance at this new Zorro, he turned and went out, leaving the door open to the storm. He did not understand why Santiago was behaving so irrationally concerning the masked man. Why duel a man with swords when you could take care of him with one shot of a pistol? Where was the logic in that? Shrugging his shoulders, he decided that he would just have to trust the Magistrado in this as he had trusted him in all the other matters between them. Right now, he had a job to do. Mounting his horse, he motioned to his men and they rode at a gallop out of San Pedro.

In the house, Zorro watched the men ride away with growing trepidation. However, he could not leave Santiago here and go after his father and the judge. This must be finished between them. And, there was only one way it could end. The only way he would let it end. He knew why Santiago had preserved his life. The Magistrado's pride would not allow him to leave the field without defeating his opponent. He had to prove to himself that no man could beat him with the sword. Mastering his emotions and setting aside the question of his father's safety for the moment, Zorro addressed Santiago.

He said with a smile, "I am flattered that you desire to remain in my company, Señor Magistrado. I would have been quite disappointed had you quit the field before we were through."

"Oh, I would not miss this for the world, Señor Zorro," said Santiago, smiling in return. "I have not met a man of your skills with the blade since I left Spain. You are good. Very good. Who was your teacher, if I may ask?"

"I was taught by the finest teacher in the world, Señor: the absolute desire to stay alive," said Zorro. "There is no finer teacher than that."

Santiago laughed aloud. "Well said, Señor!" he said through his laughter and saw Zorro return his smile. Then he sobered. The time for pleasantries was past. He looked out of the open door and into the street. The rain was still pelting outside. The thunder and lightning still resounded through the little village. He pointed to the door. "I say, let us take ourselves out into the open where we may use our skills to the greatest affect. We are too confined here. What say you?"

Zorro bowed. "I am at your service, Señor," he replied.


	94. B4 Ch20: The Heart of the Matter

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **20 – _The Heart of the Matter_**

Santiago was delighted with Zorro's response to his offer. "Splendid," he replied. "Shall we?" Santiago indicated the door. At Zorro's nod, Santiago stepped back and back, facing Zorro all the while, until he was outside in the storm. He moved away from the door and Zorro stepped out into the street awash in the pouring rains. Instantly, the clothing of both men was soaked through, but this entered the mind of neither duelist. They had eyes only for each other. Again, Zorro flipped the edge of his cape over his arm and readied himself.

Santiago prepared himself as well. "At the next flash of lightning?" he asked.

"Agreed," said Zorro.

Almost instantly, lightning split the sky. With a resounding blast, the bolt struck the tower of the small chapel which served the village of San Pedro. Shards of plaster and adobe rained down, littering the streets. Zorro had to dodge to keep from being hit by a particularly large piece. Both men were nearly deafened by the sharply piercing clap of the thunder which accompanied the strike. When Zorro resumed his stance of readiness, Santiago attacked. Zorro was pressed backward by the fury of Santiago's sword. It was darker here on the outside in between the flashes of lightning than it had been in the little house. The footing was slippery beneath their feet and now covered with debris. The rain poured off of the brim of their hats in a watery curtain and blew into their eyes. No other men but they would have fought under these conditions. Neither man entertained any thought of not continuing. They fought with all the skill and instinct which they possessed. The focus of their lives narrowed down to just the two of them and their blades.

Zorro was more used to fighting in the darkness, which gave him an advantage, but only by the slimmest of margins. He was now seeing the fulfilment of one of his desires, one he had coveted so long ago when Santiago had first come to the pueblo. He would now find out which of the two of them was the best. He would see whether or not he had regained the edge he had lost while in the Magistrado's employ. He studied Santiago now, even as they fought, and saw that he used none of the dirty tricks which many men might have used in similar circumstances. Zorro understood that Santiago was a purist in only this one thing. He would not compromise his passion: the art of the sword. This truly made them equals in this one aspect of their lives. Santiago would win by his keen ability or he would not win at all. This was his passion and pride, the only part of his soul which retained anything approaching honor. Grimly, Zorro took this to heart and pressed on.

For a time, they confined their duel to a small area of the street, one which was relatively clear of debris from the church tower. Then Santiago began to press the fight against Zorro, carrying out his flawless offense while the masked man had to fall back from the attack as he parried and made his defense. This moved them into more treacherous footing. At last, Santiago thought he had found an opening and gave a mighty thrust with his sword which Zorro met at the last moment. Their blades sang out with sharp metallic voices as they ran down each other until both hilts were locked together and Santiago's eyes met those of Zorro, mere inches separating them. Each man strained with the other as they sought advantage and they circled about. Then, just as Santiago stumbled over a piece of debris in the street, Zorro gave a mighty shove with the hilt of his sword. Santiago went down and slammed against the roadway, jarring the sword from his hand. It clattered against the stones. At the same moment, Zorro stumbled as well, the momentum of his thrust propelling him forward and off balance as there was no longer any resistance from his opponent who had fallen. His feet tangled with Santiago on the ground and he fell to his hands and knees, his own sword jarred from his hand by the impact. Immediately, both men scrambled to regain their feet, water from the puddles in the street flying all around them. When once again they faced each other in the pouring rain, another flash of lightning revealed that the swords which they held in their hands were not their own.

"What would you have us do?" asked Santiago, as he realized what had happened.

Zorro did not look at the sword in his hand, but knew it for the serpent sword of Santiago. He raised it a little so that Santiago could see. "I understand this blade to be one of the finest ever made in Spain," Zorro said, smiling through the curtain of rain dripping from the brim of his hat. He pointed with the serpent sword to the one in Santiago's hand. "The sword you hold is a good, honest blade, Señor. It has proven its worth many times. Can you say the same for your blade?"

"I have never lost with that sword, Señor Zorro," said Santiago. "There has never been a finer sword made than the one you now hold."

Zorro gave a small bow. "I await your pleasure, Señor," he said. He was still smiling.

Santiago smiled back and attacked. What did it matter which blade he held in his hand? He could tell from its balance that Zorro's sword would serve him just as well. There would be a certain poetic air in killing the infamous Zorro with his own sword, Santiago thought to himself as he dueled with the masked outlaw. With great satisfaction he would prize his own engraved sword from Zorro's dead fingers. Zorro would not have use of it for long.

Zorro found the serpent blade to be as good as Santiago claimed it to be. He attached no malignant significance to the sinuous reptile engraved upon its hilt, though the symbology was not lost on him. The blade was just an instrument of its owner, having no life of its own. This sword fit his hand as well as his own, and he found it to have the same balance. It soon became an extension of himself and he forgot that it had belonged to his opponent. He had more important things to think about now. He met Santiago's attack with one of his own and they renewed their efforts.

Blow after blow was struck. At times they circled each other, taking a breather, looking for any weakness in their opponent. Then they would begin again. It was a miracle that neither man had been cut to this point, though the flashing blades had only just missed tasting blood time and again. The skills and reflexes it took to avoid taking a cut while facing such an opponent would have astounded those who merely taught fencing for a living, Santiago found time to think to himself during a brief pause in the fight. He realized the reverse was true for the masked man who met him point for point, move for move.

Santiago had never felt so alive as he did at this very moment. He was living on the thin edge of his blade, poised to take victory as his sword took the life of the man who fought him so very well. All of the duels he had ever fought in his life, even those against de Vida, were as nothing compared to this one. They were mere shadows, meaningless. His senses were heightened and he could see the most minute details of his opponent revealed in the continual flashes of the lightning. The silver buttons of his shirt, the water drops collecting and running from his opponent's face, the eyes behind the silken mask. His hearing seemed to be so acute that he fancied that he could hear each individual raindrop as it fell to the ground. The smell of the rainstorm and of the village itself impressed themselves into his mind. Every fiber of his being screamed that he was ALIVE. ALIVE!

With renewed vigor, he pressed the fight.

Zorro fought on. The knowledge that he was fighting a man his equal with the sword was secondary to the knowledge of why he was fighting him in the first place. He never let himself lose sight of what the Magistrado had done in the name of serving justice. How he had used the very system that was to protect and serve the people in order to exploit them and take their lands and their properties and even their lives. How he had ruthlessly sent his own wife to die when she became useless to him. How he had hurt Don Alejandro by naming his son a traitor and having him convicted of treason. No one in California would ever be safe from Santiago's ambitions if he were left alive. Without Judge Vasca, no one would ever believe any charges brought against the Magistrado, such was the solid reputation he had built with the Viceroy and the Governor. He refused to think about his father's situation at the moment. Instead, he focused on the final reason for defeating Santiago.

Diego de la Vega.

Diego de la Vega had placed his complete trust in the Magistrado. He had believed in the Magistrado enough to entrust him with the welfare of the people of California. Diego's calling as a protector of the people was sacred to him. It was a higher calling than any he had ever known before. Though the price he had borne was a heavy one, it had been a price Diego de la Vega had been willing to pay to keep the people safe and to see that justice was served. Diego had been willing to let a proper official of his majesty's government take up the mantle of Señorita Justice. This was right and this was as it should be. But Diego had been betrayed. The mantle which had been given into his care by Señorita Justice had been shredded and torn apart by the Magistrado, the very man who claimed her motto as his own: _"Justice is served."_ This was something Diego could not and would not forgive.

Neither would the man born of necessity, El Zorro, find it in his heart to forgive. He also redoubled his efforts.

How long they had been fighting was unknown to either man. But at length, their exertions were beginning to take their toll. Both men were breathing harshly, forcefully expelling the rain which ran down their faces and into their mouths. Their arms, their legs, and their shoulders were burning as with fire, but they dared not let that slow their reflexes or they would be dead in an instant. Both men knew that the defining moment could not be far away. One or the other of them must reach the limit of his strength, skill and endurance and falter for the merest instant. When that happened, the other man would walk away the victor.

Santiago's resolve to be the victor never wavered. His utter confidence in his abilities and his absolute conviction that he was the greatest swordsman alive would not let him think otherwise. He was astonished at the strength and perseverance of his foe and he would never forget this duel as long as he lived. To have this experience, this taste of being so alive, was more than he had ever dared to hope for. As he continued the fight against his adversary in black, he nearly laughed aloud in his joy of meeting this ultimate challenge. Therefore, it came to him as an utter surprise when he felt a sharp, stinging pain in his chest near his heart. Involuntarily, he paused to look down. At first, he did not comprehend what he was seeing. The lightning's reflection on metal flashed silver in his eyes. His eyes followed the silver blade along its length to the ornately engraved hilt of the sword in Zorro's hand. Then his eyes traveled up to meet the eyes of Zorro. Then he knew. He looked down again at the silvery steel of Zorro's blade which had plunged into his breast. More than a third of its length was buried in or near his heart.

He was a dead man.

For another moment, the tableau held: of the two of them frozen in time, illuminated by the slashing lightning, drenched by the pouring rain. Of one man dressed all in black, holding a sword embedded in the breast of the other man. Then the moment was broken as Santiago let his sword drop to the ground. He clutched the wound in his chest, encircling Zorro's blade with both hands. With his dark eyes boring into Zorro's, he nodded. Solemnly, Zorro withdrew his blade with a steady hand. Santiago gasped and fell to his knees at Zorro's feet. As he clutched his wound, he looked up and saw the blood, . . . his blood, being cleansed by the rain from Zorro's sword. No, he realized with irony, not Zorro's sword. It was his own exquisite sword. The magnificent instrument of his death. It was his blood which ran down its length to fall at last into the muddy street.

Never taking his eyes from Santiago, Zorro stood looking down upon his adversary. He felt no sense of great triumph or victory, only completion. "Justice is served," he said quietly to the mortally wounded man kneeling in the street before him.

Santiago looked up at Zorro, blinking through the rain which fell upon his face. He heard his own words being returned to him. Words which he had spoken many times for his own reasons, never once truly believing in them. For what was justice but what you made of it? But from the lips of Zorro, the words took on a power which he had never imagined. He knew that the man before him truly believed in those words and would die to defend them. Before he could consider this further, Santiago found himself blacking out, and though he remained on his knees, he began swaying. Then he fell heavily on his side, knocking his hat from his head, continuing on then to roll onto his back. The rain was lessening a little now, but the lightning and thunder continued to set fire to the heavens. Lying there, his vision returned to him and he could see the black figure of Zorro standing silently over him.

"No one has ever been my equal with the sword before this day," he managed to say between waves of nausea. "You must be more than a man, for you have done the impossible, Señor Zorro."

Zorro shook his head slowly as he said, "Señor, I am but a man as you are."

"Just a man you say." Santiago smiled wanly. "Forgive me, Señor, if I choose not believe you. But leave that for now. I have questions that must be answered before I die, Señor Zorro." He paused, as he experienced a wave of intense pain. Clutching his chest, he forced the words out. "Tell me. Why did you wait? Why did you wait so long to return? Surely you knew about the false Zorro terrorizing the people in your name? You knew that young de la Vega was framed for treason? You are called the people's defender, their champion of justice. I do not understand why you waited until now to appear." Gathering his strength, he gasped, "Where have you been?"

Zorro was thoughtful for a long moment. There were many words he could use to explain, but it came to him that there was one succinct action which would explain everything to the man lying at his feet. Slowly, he sank to one knee close beside Santiago, his cape pooling on the ground around him. He set Santiago's sword down on the street beside him. Moving deliberately, Zorro loosened the strings of his hat and pushed it to rest on his back. Then he removed the black silk head cloth, allowing the rain to flow through his hair and onto his masked face. Looking directly into Santiago's dark eyes, which were riveted upon him, Zorro removed the mask just as a bolt of lightning split the skies for what seemed like an eternity.

"De la Vega!" Santiago cried softly in surprise as he saw Diego's face in the stuttering, flashing lightning. Then in firm recognition, he said, "Diego de la Vega." A pause, and softly he stated, "And you are El Zorro." Diego nodded solemnly. "Your disguise among men was complete, de la Vega," Santiago said. "You fooled even I. I, who believed that my own disguise among men was impenetrable, finds that there is one to whom I must acknowledge my master in two things."

Diego waited quietly.

Santiago paused as he coughed and clutched his chest against the pain. So much now came together for him even as he felt his life seeping away through his fingers. Everything he knew about Diego from the first moments they had been introduced up through their compelling silent duel in courtroom coalesced in his mind. Those odd moments during the last year when Diego seemed so much more than he appeared. The brief glimpses of an internal fire he had seen in his young deputy which had been at odds with the persona he placed before the world. He saw with absolute clarity that the Diego de la Vega everyone knew was just a shell covering the man who knelt beside him. So well hidden was the real son of Don Alejandro, that not even Diego's own father had penetrated the disguise. He also saw with clarity the dilemma which Diego had created for himself when he became both El Zorro, mighty champion of justice, and Diego de la Vega, soft poet and scholar. Until he, Santiago, had come to Los Angeles, there had been no way for Diego to leave Zorro behind and resume a normal life without causing too many people to wonder, especially his father. Santiago's arrival had provided the opportunity for which Diego had been searching. As the Magistrado had wished, Diego had believed Santiago to be a champion of the people. Diego had seen in him a man to whom the saying 'Justice is served' was more than just a motto, a man for whom the cause of justice was as precious to him as it was to the younger de la Vega. Ironically, through his own cleverness, Santiago had managed to claim the respect and admiration of El Zorro, something that no one else had done before him. If Santiago had not been in so much pain, he might have laughed.

Nodding mostly to himself, Santiago said through clenched teeth, "I see all of it now. You were trapped into my plans because of who you have to be in order to be this El Zorro. You wanted to set this aside," said Santiago as he picked up a handful of Zorro's black cape in his left hand. "You wanted to become the Diego de la Vega everyone could respect for who you really are, not for this." Santiago crushed the fabric in his hand. "Above all, you, the real Diego de la Vega, wished to reclaim the respect of your father, which you had sacrificed to be this Zorro. Am I correct, Señor?" Diego swallowed once and then nodded. Santiago dropped the cape and let his hand fall by his side. He turned his head to look away from Diego. "And I, not knowing this, found you perfect for my plans. You were trapped both by me and by your own desires. I set in motion the very trap that ultimately has killed me."

"All of what you say is true, Señor," acknowledged Diego quietly. "You alone, save for my servant, know my heart's innermost desires." Diego looked out into the inky darkness, blinking the rain . . . or was it something else, from his eyes. "Being who I am is a lonely road and heavy burden. I welcomed the chance to let a man with the king's authority take up that burden and at last find a way to regain my father's respect by working side by side with you. I was indeed blinded by my own desires." He looked back at Santiago.

"You, Señor, have torn my heart and soul in ways that I cannot find words to express, but I think you understand now. You know the man I am here," he said, touching his heart with his gloved hand, "and the sacrifices I am willing to make for the sake of honor and justice."

Santiago turned back to look at Diego, who was still illuminated in the softer flashes of lightning from the storm which was now moving away from the village. "Yes," he said with the little breath left to him. "I do know the kind of man you are, de la Vega." His eyes held Diego's and Diego could see that this was so. Santiago continued. "Just as you know the kind of man I am." He smiled coldly up at Diego.

Diego nodded. Ambitious. Deceitful. The deadly cold heart of the serpent on the inside while deceiving everyone with his chameleon's cloak of charm and warmth. Able to send his wife to her death by the hands of a former minion of the Eagle and to smile about it. A man who could ruin the lives of countless others in order to satisfy his own desires. A man reaching for power and riches. A man to whom no one and nothing was more dear to him than himself and his needs. Yes, he knew this man who lay stretched upon the ground before him. He said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Santiago continued to look at Diego as if he could read his very thoughts. He laughed a little, though he was growing weaker. "So you are the great El Zorro, the man of legends," he mused more to himself than to Diego. "Ah, . . .if I had only known . . . ." He trailed off, looking back into the rain filled night, his breathing becoming more labored.

Suddenly Santiago clutched at his chest and rolled partly onto his side, curling up from the pain. "I die, de la Vega. I die," he gasped. "You . . . may be the victor here, Diego de la Vega, but . . . I am not above claiming my vengeance." Santiago turned his head so that his fathomless dark eyes bored into Diego's. He reached out with his free hand and seized Diego's forearm as he rasped, "You, . . . the great El Zorro, the great protector of the people, . . . you are powerless . . . as you kneel here . . . in the mud of the street with me. Remember your father . . . and the judge? . . . I . . . will . . . have my revenge . . . and their deaths . . . will stalk you . . . for the rest . . . of . . . your . . . life."

Santiago's hand tightened like a vise on Diego's arm and he began laughing to himself even as the last of his life flowed from his body. In death, his body spasmed once and his lifeless eyes stared up into the night sky, the last drops of the rain glistening on his pallid forehead in the now sallow lightning of the fading storm. His lips were frozen in a smile of triumph.

Diego stared at Santiago's form for no more than a moment. Then, with a pounding heart, he tore Santiago's lifeless hand from his arm. Grabbing his sword from the muddy street along with Santiago's, he leaped to his feet, sheathing his own sword as he ran toward the place where he knew Tornado was waiting.

His father. And Judge Vasca. He had to try and reach them in time. It had been so long ago since he had told them to flee and such a long time since Santiago had sent his henchmen after them. Diego whistled for Tornado while he drew his hat back upon his head and tucked his mask inside of his shirt. The stallion pounded up the street towards him and Diego swung aboard the saddle without letting the great horse come to a stop. Urging Tornado forward, they flew past Santiago's body lying motionless in the pools of water left from the storm, pools which were now stained with blood. The emotions Diego felt at the sight of the dead man were put away in the urgency of the need to find his father and the judge. His time with Santiago was finished. His father needed him. That was all that mattered now. The great stallion sent water spraying in all directions as they thundered down the dark, wet streets in pursuit of those who would harm his father and the judge.

The sighing wind and the soft rumbles of the now distant storm remained as the only companions for the lifeless body of the former Magistrado for the pueblo of Los Angeles. The mortal remains of Jorgé Martinez Santiago lay all alone in the shallow pools of water stained with crimson.


	95. B4 Ch21: Comes the Morning

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **21 – _Comes the Morning_**

Don Alejandro sent the carriage horses flying into the night. They had not gone very far from the village when the storm broke above them, sending down torrents of rain. It was almost impossible to see except for the intense flashes of lightning. They were soon drenched and the hooves of the carriage horses sprayed the two men with mud as they ran. Judge Vasca still held onto the carriage for his life as his companion urged the horses on. He was considering calling Don Alejandro a madman for doing this. At any moment the carriage could overturn, killing both of them. However, as he thought about it, Don Alejandro was right in getting away from San Pedro as fast as he could. Señor Santiago would never let the two of them live knowing that they knew him for what he was. So Vasca just clung to the carriage and prayed earnestly for Don Alejandro's skills as a driver.

Don Alejandro knew that out from San Pedro, at a distance of about two miles, the road forked. Both forks led to Los Angeles, but one of the roads was well traveled and the other meandered its way up and down through the hills making the going much slower. Don Alejandro also knew that if anyone pursued them, they would assume he would take the main road to Los Angeles, taking the much shorter route. That is why he would be taking the other road. The rain would soon wash away their tracks and the pursuers would go down the wrong road. Before they realized they had missed their quarry, Don Alejandro and the judge would be many miles away. He held the horses steady, slowing them just a little, and peered into the rain, looking for landmarks. When he saw the split in the road, he pulled hard on the reins and the horses turned left at the run, skewing the carriage around and nearly spilling the judge out the side.

"Señor de la Vega!" the judge cried out as he scrambled to find his seat again.

"Hold on, Your Excellency!" Don Alejandro shouted back as he urged the horses to greater speed. "I'll explain later!" He needed to put as much distance as he could between them and the main road. But it was soon evident that great speed was not going to be possible. The bad condition of the road would prevent it. There were ruts and rocks which threatened to overturn the carriage if they did not slow down. Reluctantly, Don Alejandro pulled back on the reins. He did his best to keep the horses at a ground-eating trot and fretted at the delay.

"Señor de la Vega. Will you be kind enough to explain your actions?" demanded Vasca. "Why have we turned down this goat trail of a road? This not the way to Los Angeles."

"Oh, but it is, Your Excellency," said Don Alejandro. "This road will take us to Los Angeles, but it comes in from the west instead of from the south as does the main road. Those who hunt us will keep to the main trail while we travel this one. The rain will wash away our tracks."

"Ah," said Vasca, understanding now. Then he scowled again, "But they will soon realize that we are not on the main road will they not?"

"Yes, that is possible," said Don Alejandro. "Very possible. Likely, in fact, Your Excellency."

"They will turn and come after us on this road, won't they?" asked the judge.

"Yes, Your Excellency, they will," replied Don Alejandro. He would not play down their danger.

"Will we reach Los Angeles in time?"

"I do not know," said Don Alejandro. "This road is many miles longer than the other one and the going is steeper in places, all of which will take more time. We can only pray that it takes them a long time to figure out we have eluded them. I will go as fast as I can, Your Excellency, but in the rain and on this road, Los Angeles is very far away."

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Lozano and his men came to the split in the road at the height of the storm, but they did not even consider changing direction. They stayed on the main road, using the lightning flashes to try and find their quarry. Lozano was surprised that the two men were so far ahead of them. They should have caught up to them long before. But there was nowhere else for the two old men to go. They had to go to Los Angeles for help. He urged his men to greater speed.

At last, after a great deal of time had passed, Lozano called to his men to pull up. He knew they were almost a third of the way to Los Angeles. There was no way the two men could have eluded them. Or was there? Lozano suddenly remembered the other road to Los Angeles. He knew that, as a man born and raised in the region, Don Alejandro would know all about the other road. Grinding his teeth, he yelled at his men to follow him and they set out, going back along the way they had come. He would personally kill the old don himself for pulling this trick on him. The horses sent water spraying as they galloped along the rain washed road. Lozano was thankful when the rain finally decided to quit. However, he could have wished for the lightning to continue. It made keeping to the road that much easier when he could take his bearings in the stuttering light.

Don Alejandro and the judge rode on in silence for a long while, the rain seeming to follow them. It kept them drenched and cold, for there was not much shelter in the carriage when the rain blew upon the wind in sheets. But finally, after what seemed like hours, the torrent lessened and the storm began to lose its intensity. The rain began to fall more gently. Then, at last, the rain stopped and the clouds parted. The stars seemed to play hide and seek with the tattered remnants of the storm. Though the rain had washed most of the mud from the two men, it left their clothing and their hair plastered to them. They were both miserable and not inclined to talk.

After another hour of driving, Don Alejandro decided they might be a little more than two thirds of the way to Los Angeles by this time. Dawn would be coming soon and take from them the cover of the darkness. The storm clouds had completely drifted away by now and the stars shone brightly in the heavens. Periodically, he turned to look behind the carriage as best he could to search for those who might be following. He saw nothing time after time. However, just as the first graying of the dawn came, he saw them. There were six shadows chasing them across the landscape. They had been found. He urged his tiring horses to greater speed, using the whip to encourage them. To Judge Vasca's inquiry, he said, "Look behind us, Your Excellency." Vasca clung to the carriage as he did so, and he soon turned back around looking very grim. He knew who those men were as well.

Desperately, Don Alejandro searched around for some defensible position as he scanned the countryside. They could not stay in the carriage or they would be cut down by Santiago's men. Then he saw it. Up on the next rise, there was a pile of enormous rocks. If they could make it there, they could take cover and defend themselves. Besides, Don Alejandro was thoroughly ready to fight someone. He had been denied the pleasure of taking on Santiago, but he could and he would take on these men who hounded after him. In this, he was resolved. He whipped the horses to greater speed and the carriage careened behind them.

When they reached the rocks, Don Alejandro pulled hard on the reins, setting the carriage horses back on their haunches as they slid and plunged to a stop. Judge Vasca was nearly thrown forward out of the carriage, but Don Alejandro grabbed onto his arm and prevented this disaster.

"Hurry, Your Excellency!" he cried. "We must get up into those rocks before Santiago's hired killers arrive. Hurry!"

"No need to shout," said Judge Vasca, as he slid from the carriage, followed by Don Alejandro. "My hearing is just fine."

Don Alejandro gathered up the powder horns and shot, plus the two pistols from the floor of the carriage, and shoved them into Vasca's hands. "If your hearing is so good, Your Excellency, then you will hear those who come after us now," he said forcefully. He picked up the two muskets and turned to lead the way up into the rocks. "Come, we have little time!"

The pounding of the horses' hooves was plain to hear. Judge Vasca wasted no time in following Don Alejandro up into the rocks. He was surprisingly agile for one so large. They followed a narrow passage between two large rocks. It was just wide enough for the Judge to pass through by turning sideways. Don Alejandro was pleased. They were surrounded by large rocks and the narrow passage was easily defensible.

"Your Excellency, can you use a musket?" asked Don Alejandro, as he saw to the condition of his musket. It was already loaded.

Puffing a bit, Judge Vasca said, "I have not fired one since I was a boy, when I went hunting with my father."

"Then, do you remember how to load a musket and these pistols?" asked Don Alejandro, looking down the narrow passage where he knew the men would be coming.

"Yes, I do think I remember how to load them," said Vasca.

"Good," said Don Alejandro. "Then I will fire them and you will load them. I think we can hold them off for quite some time from this place." In the back of his mind, Don Alejandro wondered just what he was going to do when their powder ran out, but he didn't say anything to the judge. They would just have to deal with it when the time came. But, by the Saints, he would make the men below pay dearly before he was overrun.

Santiago's men pulled up and dismounted quickly at the base of the rocks. The carriage horses spooked and ran away, dragging the empty carriage behind them. Some of the men's horses became frightened and followed. The men paid no attention. They had but one goal at the moment. All of them peered up into the rocks trying to spot the two older men. The light from the dawn was growing stronger, but everything was still grey, and the shadows among the rocks were deep and dark. Lozano, a white cloth binding the wound in his arm, motioned to two of his men to split up and circle around in order to try and find another way into the rocks. He motioned the other three men to precede him up the narrow passage. They nearly knocked him down as they ducked and ran back trying to escape the musket balls Don Alejandro was firing at them.

Hugging the rocks on both sides of the passage, they kept out of the older man's line of fire. Lozano pushed the nearest man away as he carefully peered around the rock. Particles of stone stung his face as Don Alejandro's next shot came close. Lozano jumped back. He knew where the old man was now by the flash of his musket, but to fire at him was extremely dangerous. The old man had chosen his ground well. Lozano paused a moment, then he stepped into the passage and fired, leaping back behind the rock.

Rock particles exploded around Don Alejandro. He ducked. Quickly, he stood and snapped off another shot down the passage. Judge Vasca was doing an excellent job of keeping the weapons loaded. As long as their supplies lasted, Don Alejandro did not think they would be overrun. He fired one of the pistols at a movement he thought he saw in the passage. For the next few minutes, both factions exchanged shots continuously, but in the half light of dawn, no one was hit.

Judge Vasca was seated on a boulder, pouring powder into the other pistol. He then shoved in a ball and was ramming it home when he felt, rather than saw, someone appear above and to his left. It was one of Santiago's men taking aim at Don Alejandro's back. Vasca didn't even take time to think. He pointed the pistol and pulled the trigger. The man pitched forward off the rock, felled by Vasca's shot. He landed just a few feet from the judge. Don Alejandro looked around and gave a big smile when he saw that one of Santiago's men was done for.

"Excellenté!" he cried to the judge as he saluted him with his musket. Then he turned back to fire down the passage as one of Santiago's men had tried to take advantage of his momentary distraction. His shot was effective and another one of Magistrado's henchmen fell dead. This action was more to Don Alejandro's liking.

It was becoming easier to see by the moment. It would not be long before the sun would be peeking over the eastern horizon. Don Alejandro fired another shot at Lozano who had just fired a shot at him. He handed the musket to Judge Vasca in exchange for a loaded pistol. A few moments later he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to face Judge Vasca.

"We have only the shots left in the muskets and pistols now," said Vasca. "We are out of gun powder."

Don Alejandro thought furiously. "Then we will draw them out. I will hold my fire and let them think we are out of ammunition. When they charge us, I will give them what they are asking for." They settled in to wait.

Down below, Lozano held up his hand. "Listen," he said. "No more shots. They are out of ammunition. We will take them now." Shoving both of his men ahead of him, they entered the passage, muskets and pistols ready. The lead man never knew what hit him as Don Alejandro fired. The second man was taken by a bullet from the pistol fired by Judge Vasca. Don Alejandro clapped Vasca on the shoulder and grinned. The two men then picked up the remaining musket and pistol containing their last defense. Lozano had escaped.

Back at the base of the rocks, Lozano weighed his options. They were not good. He did not know how much ammunition the two old men really might have with them and he would not again be pulled in by trickery to go up the passage once more. Then he saw Aredo, the last of his men, waving to him. Aredo had climbed the rocks in the steepest place and would soon be in a position to shoot down upon the two old men. He had a musket and a pistol with him. All Lozano had to do was provide a distraction for a few more moments. He waved Aredo to continue on and turned back to the passage. Grabbing the ankle of one of the dead men, he pulled him far enough to reach the loaded pistol in the dead man's belt, wincing at the pain this caused his wounded arm. With a pistol now in each hand, Lozano ignored his discomfort and stepped from behind his rock and fired at Don Alejandro's position with both pistols. He leaped back just in time to avoid being hit by Don Alejandro's return fire. Then, he felt a mighty blow land on his head and he knew no more.

Don Alejandro turned to look at Judge Vasca. They were down to one last shot in the pistol that the judge carried. They changed places so the judge would have the best line of fire. The sun was just coming up, illuminating the some of the clouds hanging low on the horizon, turning them a shade of reddish pink. Don Alejandro paused to remember that early mornings were his favorite time of the day. He would enjoy this sunrise to the fullest. If he had to die, he could think of no better time than now. He turned to survey their surroundings and caught his breath. Aredo was standing on the peak of one of the highest rocks with his musket aimed right at Don Alejandro's heart. But before Aredo could pull the trigger, the end of a whip wrapped around his throat and he was pulled backwards off of the rock, discharging his musket into the air.

Judge Vasca turned around and looked at Don Alejandro. "What was that?" he asked.

"I suspect it is our outlaw friend," said Don Alejandro, looking at the judge and smiling happily.

"Zorro?" asked Vasca, as he returned to his scrutiny of the passage.

"Sí," said Don Alejandro. When he looked back, he caught his breath once again. This time the reason was much different. For Zorro was now standing on top of the same rock that Aredo had previously occupied. He stood with his right foot in advance of the left, with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His eyes and his mouth, which were all that could be seen of his face behind the mask, were firmly set. His cape, which hung from his broad shoulders, floated on the gentle winds of the morning. He was illuminated by a single bright ray of the rising sun, and though dressed in the darkest black, seemed to glisten in the sunlight. _Magnifico!_ Don Alejandro exclaimed in his thoughts, captivated by the sight. _Surely a man of legends!_ He thought about how some men might try to claim to be a hero for some deed or other, but this mystery man who stood before him was truly one in every sense of the word. Don Alejandro knew he would never forget the sight of this masked man standing tall and proud in the morning sunlight. He reached behind him and took Judge Vasca by the arm.

"Yes, what is it?" said Vasca. Then he looked up where Don Alejandro was pointing.

"Señores!" Zorro said with a grand salute.

"Zorro!" exclaimed Vasca.

"Sí, Your Excellency. I have arrived, and just in time it would seem," said Zorro with a smile. "You can put down your pistol, Your Excellency. The men who would harm you are either dead or tied up. It would seem that the two of you make quite a formidable duo. There were only two who required my personal attention."

"Graciás, Señor Zorro," said Don Alejandro. "We are most grateful for your help. And what of the Magistrado?"

In answer, Zorro pulled a second sword from his belt and tossed it hilt-first to Don Alejandro. In its arc, the ornate sword flashed silver in the rays of light coming from rising sun.

Don Alejandro caught the sword by the hilt and looked at it. Then he looked back up at Zorro.

"Señor Santiago will trouble the earth no more," Zorro said in a very sober tone, gripping the hilt of his own sword more tightly.

With grave satisfaction, Don Alejandro said, "It is well, Señor Zorro."

"Yes. It is well, Señor de la Vega," Zorro confirmed, as their eyes met.

Don Alejandro was drawn within those eyes, and it was as if the rest of the world had vanished. He felt as if those eyes, which were so mysterious to him, were conveying more than mere words could express. This man Zorro had taken unto himself a sacred mission and it was accomplished. Diego would again be a free man, soon to be restored to Don Alejandro, and Santiago, the man who dared to use the law for his own evil purposes, was now vanquished. The words _Justice is served_ seemed to echo in the silence between the two of them. Again, Don Alejandro was haunted by the feeling that those eyes which held his were somehow familiar to him. However, his thoughts were interrupted as Judge Vasca took this moment to make an announcement.

Pointing his pistol up at Zorro, Vasca said with authority, "Señor Zorro, I place you under arrest."

Zorro and Don Alejandro looked at Judge Vasca and then back at each other. Then, throwing his head back, Zorro laughed heartily, the sound echoing in the rocks around them.

Judge Vasca looked questioningly at Don Alejandro. "What did I say that was so funny?" he asked in all seriousness.

Don Alejandro was grinning too. He just shrugged his shoulders not trusting himself to answer. It was too funny. The two of them had just been through a pitched battle, saved in the end only by El Zorro. They had previously been saved by Zorro from Santiago's order of death back in San Pedro. The charges of treason against Diego had been disproved and now Diego's life was to be spared and his exile revoked because of Zorro. And now Judge Vasca wanted to arrest the man? It was too much. Don Alejandro joined Zorro in his laughter.

Judge Vasca looked from man to man. He was trying to decide if they had both gone mad at the same time.

Zorro relished being able to laugh with his father. How long had it been? The laughter brought a full measure of joy to his heart. Finally, he said, "Your Excellency. May I point out that you are miles from anywhere? You have no horses. No carriage. If you arrest me now, who will go and retrieve your carriage? I seem to have the only horse as the others have scattered. And as you well know, he will answer only to me. Am I correct in assuming that you do not wish to walk all the way to Los Angeles?" From atop the rock, he continued to smile down upon the portly judge.

Faced with this reality, Judge Vasca let the pistol drop.

"You are indeed a wise man, Your Excellency," said Zorro with a bow. "I shall not be long. I will meet you at the foot of the rocks with your carriage." With that, he turned and leaped down from sight behind the rocks, his cape floating on the air behind him.

Judge Vasca turned to Don Alejandro and said, "I suppose he will not allow himself to be arrested when we reach Los Angeles, either."

"I wouldn't count on it, Your Excellency," said Don Alejandro, still smiling. He put his hand on Vasca's shoulder and pointed the way down the passage. Vasca sighed and started down carrying the two pistols. Don Alejandro followed, picking up the two muskets to carry along with Santiago's sword. At the foot of the rocks, they found the remaining two henchmen who were still alive, bound and gagged. Lozano and Aredo glared at them from behind their gags . Don Alejandro addressed the two men.

"Señores, your leader is dead. He cannot help you now. You will be turned over to Sergeant Garcia in Los Angeles and tried for attempted murder, treason, and conspiracy. Is that not correct, Your Excellency?" Judge Vasca nodded. Lozano and Aredo exchanged worried glances.

Judge Vasca said, "I will be pleased to conduct the trial."

The two older men found a comfortable place to sit down as they waited for Zorro. "It is a wonderful morning is it not, Your Excellency?" said Don Alejandro, sweeping his hand across the landscape. The full morning sun was illuminating the countryside and the splendor of nature was revealed. They could see for quite a distance, and Don Alejandro thought that, at this moment, there was no more beautiful place in all the world.

"Sí, Don Alejandro, it is a beautiful morning," said Judge Vasca. He paused, and then said, "You do not hold it against me for the wrongful conviction of your son? I would not blame you for thinking ill of me."

"No, Your Excellency, I harbor no ill feelings toward you," said Don Alejandro. "It was the scheming coyote, Jorgé Santiago, who was the cause of it all. He presented to you evidence as an officer of the court, and in accordance with our laws, you had no choice but to rule as you did. Even I was taken in by the false evidence planted by Santiago." Don Alejandro shook his head sadly. "He studied us well, Santiago did, and used us against each other in order to further his plans. It took Zorro to show me how wrong I was about Diego." Don Alejandro looked out across the land. "He also caused me to rethink how I have been treating Diego since his return from Spain. Diego is my son and I am proud to be his father. In his own way, Diego was protecting me from Santiago by accepting his conviction without protest. He could not have known that Santiago had larger plans and that his sacrifice was misdirected. It was an act of selflessness that took a great deal of courage." Don Alejandro looked at Vasca. "And when I see him, I shall tell him so. I hope that he can be restored to me soon. Señor Zorro promised he was hidden away and safe."

"Sí, Don Alejandro," said Vasca. "We will hold a formal hearing as soon as Diego is returned to Los Angeles to reverse his sentence and declare him innocent of all charges. It will be most satisfying to right the wrong which has been done to him."

"Graciás, Your Excellency. I could ask nothing more from you," said Don Alejandro.

Their attention was drawn to the road as Zorro arrived, driving the carriage. He had three of the henchmen's horses tied to the back of the carriage with Tornado trailing along behind. He leaped down from the carriage and executed a bow.

"Señores, I bring you transportation and a means to take the prisoners to Los Angeles. Come, I will help you get them mounted." Soon, he and Don Alejandro had Lozano and Aredo mounted on two of the horses, which they left tied to the back of the carriage. Zorro provided more gunpowder and they reloaded the muskets and pistols. Don Alejandro put one pistol in his banda and kept one in his hand as he mounted the remaining horse. He would keep guard on the prisoners from horseback. Judge Vasca stowed the two muskets in the carriage where he could easily reach them. Then he climbed into the carriage, which groaned under his weight. Zorro handed him the reins.

"Ah, ah, ah . . . ," Zorro said, wagging his finger at Judge Vasca, who snatched his hand away from the muskets almost guiltily. He had thought to make one last attempt to capture the outlaw. Zorro cocked his head to one side mischievously. "I see that you and Sergeant Garcia have a certain something in common, Your Excellency," said Zorro smiling and looking pointedly at Vasca's girth.

"And just what might that be?" asked Vasca, glaring at Zorro, daring him to say something about it.

"You both have failed to capture El Zorro," said the masked man with a hearty laugh as he slapped the near horse on the rump, sending it and its companion into a trot. Vasca was thrown backward from the lurch and then regained his balance as he grabbed the reins more tightly, shouting at the horses to slow down. Zorro watched merrily as the carriage went on down the road with the two prisoners tied on their horses behind. As he turned to address Don Alejandro, he noticed something shining on the ground at his feet. He bent down and picked it up as Don Alejandro watched. It was a man's ring. Zorro recognized it as the ring that belonged to Judge Vasca, who must have lost it while climbing into the carriage. Taking the ring, Zorro walked over to his father. "Señor de la Vega, your son will soon be restored to you," he said with a smile. "I shall see to it."

"I will be most grateful, Señor Zorro," said Don Alejandro, practically beaming despite being covered in dirt from his ordeal and looking quite bedraggled.

Zorro then held the ring up to Don Alejandro. "Señor, will you please see that this is returned to His Excellency?" he said. "I believe he values it very highly. I should not like him to think ill of me and accuse me of taking it."

"Sí," said Don Alejandro taking the ring and placing it in his banda. "I will be most happy to do so."

"Oh, and, um, you might tell his Excellency that the horses drawing his carriage belong to the livery in San Juan," said Zorro. "He might wish to see they are returned before he is accused of theft. That would not look so good on his record, would it? And you also might note the carriage is one from your own rancho." Don Alejandro gave a quick look after the departing carriage and saw for the first time that this was so. He looked back at Zorro, who said, "I think that takes care of the little details left from our adventure. Now, you had better hurry on, Señor de la Vega," said Zorro, looking after the carriage. "Or the judge will be in Los Angeles long before you." He smiled up at his father.

Don Alejandro returned the smile and once again found himself drawn into the outlaw's eyes. Those haunting hazel eyes. Finally, he found his voice and said, "Graciás, Señor Zorro for all the help you have been to me and to my son. We can never repay you. If there is ever anything we can do to help you, you have but to ask."

Zorro merely bowed eloquently to Don Alejandro with a quixotic smile on his face and said nothing.

Once again marveling at the man who helped so many and asked nothing for himself, Don Alejandro saluted Zorro and sent his horse into a gallop to catch up with Judge Vasca and the prisoners.

Zorro watched them go, then whistled for Tornado. Standing there, he stroked the stallion's neck for a few minutes. "Soon, Tornado," he said softly. "Soon this will be over and I can return to my home a free man. Free to come and go as I please. Free to sleep in my own bed, in my own bedroom." With one last friendly slap on the horse's shoulder he said, "And free to annoy my father again with my worthless ways." Tornado snorted, seeming to understand, and tossed his head as Zorro mounted.

During the remaining trip into Los Angeles, Don Alejandro looked up from time to time into the surrounding high ground and found what he thought he would see, Zorro watching over them from a distance. When they were within a half a mile of the pueblo, Zorro appeared just ahead of them on a rise. With Tornado rearing and pawing the air, Zorro gave them one final salute and then turned and rode away, leaving a small cloud of dust in his wake. Don Alejandro knew then they would not see Zorro again. His work was finished. Urging his horse forward, Don Alejandro came up even with the carriage. "It is not much further now, Your Excellency. We will be in Los Angeles shortly."

"That is good, Don Alejandro," said Judge Vasca. "My stomach roars with its very emptiness. I have had nothing to eat since last evening. Let us hurry along and get these prisoners in the cuartel jail and breakfast together at the inn."

"A fine idea, Your Excellency!" said Don Alejandro. They picked up the pace and soon rode into the plaza and up to the gates of the cuartel. Loudly, Don Alejandro called out. "In the cuartel! Bring Sergeant Garcia quickly! We have prisoners!" A crowd of onlookers soon gathered around them.

Sergeant Garcia hurried to the gates to see what was going on and stopped, open mouthed at what he saw. Judge Vasca was just stepping down from his carriage as Don Alejandro continued to hold a pistol pointed at the prisoners. Both of the older men were in rough shape and covered in dirt and dust. Don Alejandro looked positively tattered. His time away from Los Angeles had done nothing to improve his appearance. Recognizing Judge Vasca at once, the Sergeant snapped to attention. "Your Excellency! To what do we owe the pleasure of your return to our fair pueblo?" he asked looking from the judge to the prisoners and back again.

"Sergeant," ordered Vasca. "You will put these prisoners in jail on charges of attempted murder, treason and conspiracy. I will set the date of their trial after I have had breakfast."

"Attempted murder...?" said Garcia. "But who..?"

"Attempted murder against Don Alejandro de la Vega and myself, Sergeant," said Vasca, trying to dust himself off. "We will discuss it further after I have eaten. That is all, Sergeant."

Garcia snapped to attention and saluted as he said, "Sí, Your Excellency!"

Judge Vasca turned and said to Don Alejandro, who had dismounted, "Shall we?" as he indicated the inn.

"Let's," said Don Alejandro, giving a little bow, and together they walked across the plaza.


	96. B4 Ch22: The Homecoming

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **22 – _The Homecoming_**

Don Alejandro returned to his home to find it well ordered. The patio to the hacienda had been freshly swept and the plantings were manicured. He was met at the door of the sala by Old Juan, who bowed and welcomed him in. Old Juan looked at Don Alejandro curiously, wondering what the mood of his patrón might be. The last time he had seen Don Alejandro, things were not at all pleasant and the present state of his patron's clothing did nothing to raise his hopes. He was therefore quite relieved at his master's first words to him.

"Juan! It is good to see you," said Don Alejandro. "The hacienda looks fine. You did this all yourself?"

Old Juan broke into a big smile. "Sí, Patrón, sí. I have taken care of the hacienda and kept it for you in case you returned." Juan lost his smile as he realized what he had said.

Don Alejandro put his hand on the old servant's shoulder. "Juan, do not concern yourself with what went on before. There were things I had to do in order to set everything right again. If I was harsh with you, I am sorry."

"Oh, no, Patrón," said Old Juan bowing and smiling again.

"Well, I am back now and things shall return to normal. Are Raul and Gilberto still here?"

"Sí, Don Alejandro. Do you wish me to get them?" asked Juan.

"My horse is tied up outside. Have Raul take care of him and send Gilberto to me in the library," said Don Alejandro. "And then draw my bath. Make the water steaming hot. By the Saints, I want to be clean again."

"Sí, Don Alejandro," said Juan with an even larger smile. Bowing, he hurried on his way.

Don Alejandro entered the library and just stood there for a moment savoring the return to his home. The familiar smells of the leather bindings on the books, the lingering smell of the fine cigars he kept in a box on his desk, the soft colors of the tapestry on the wall. All of these things filled his heart. He went to his desk and ran his hand across its well-worn surface. The hands of his father and his father's father had worn this desk smooth. And now Diego would again have his chance to inherit this desk and its legacy. His thoughts were interrupted by Gilberto entering the room with his hat in his hand.

"Patrón?" he said.

"Gilberto. Come in," said Don Alejandro. "Gilberto, I want you to ride and tell all the vaqueros and servants who worked at this rancho that I have come home. Tell them that they may return to their old positions and take up their work. We have much to do. The cattle must be gathered and the horses must be brought in. And tell them . . .," here he paused to swallow, "tell everyone that my son, Diego, who is completely innocent of the charges against him, will be coming home a free man. Now go."

"Sí, Patrón, sí!" said Gilberto smiling. He put on his hat and went to carry out his instructions. So many people would be happy to hear this news.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

In the cave, Diego was helping Bernardo into his Zorro costume. Two days had passed since Don Alejandro had returned home. So that everyone would believe that the outlaw Zorro had been holding Diego some distance away from Los Angeles, they had waited. It was a hard wait, but aided by the fact they could see from the peepholes that Don Alejandro seemed recovered from his ordeal, they managed. The elder don was efficiently seeing to it that the rancho was brought back to order. And everyone, from the servants to the vaqueros, were going around with smiles on their faces. They were happy to be home again. And now it was time for Diego to go home.

"Hold still while I fix this," Diego said as he bent over to straighten Bernardo's banda. He couldn't get it quite even because it had a certain extra distance to travel that the real Zorro's banda did not. "No, don't hold it in or you won't be able to breath later," laughed Diego. "Now put on the cape. Here, let me hold it for you. And here are the gloves and the hat. Is the mask on the right way around?" Bernardo/Zorro turned around and gave Diego a look as he shoved Diego's shoulder in mock anger. Diego laughed again. "You must put on a good appearance for us today, eh? When you deliver me to the front door of the hacienda, Zorro must look his best." Bernardo/Zorro smiled and nodded his head in happy agreement. "All right, let us go and get Tornado. We must not make my father wait any longer." Bernardo/Zorro made some gestures and Diego said, "Yes, I am anxious to be reunited with my father. This has been as hard on him as it has been on me. Oh, one thing more, take this pistol and put it in your banda. I will tell you what to do with it as we ride."

Diego took one more look at himself in the mirror. Did he look the part of a man whom El Zorro had kept hidden away for all these weeks? He decided that he did. He was wearing the light blue suit with the black embroidery and a ruffled shirt. The suit was somewhat rumpled, so he decided to leave his jacket in the cave as it would make a more sympathetic appearance to everyone if it looked like his hardship had cost him his jacket. He unbuttoned his vest and left it open. Running his hand through his hair, he decided that he was ready.

"Come, El Zorro!" he called to Bernardo/Zorro as he walked toward Tornado. "We have an appointment to keep!" Bernardo/Zorro ran to catch up and Diego fondly put his hand on his mozo's shoulder as they walked along.

Don Alejandro was standing in the sala, giving instructions to Old Juan and Crescensia, who had hurried back when she heard the good news. "We will need a whole side of beef delivered to the tavern the day of Diego's court appearance before Judge Vasca, and at least two barrels of wine. Crescensia, you and your ladies will see to the side dishes to be served. We are having the fiesta honoring my son's return and his vindication at the tavern, but I am not going to let that money pinching little innkeeper take advantage of me again. We will bring our own food and wine so I will know that my guests are being treated to the best." Old Juan and Crescensia nodded together.

Just then, the vaquero, Raul, came bursting in the gate of the patio and crossed the courtyard at a run. He knocked anxiously on the door of the hacienda and Old Juan went over to the door to let him in.

"Patrón! Come quick! Zorro comes!" Raul cried as he pointed in the direction of the road coming from the north.

"Zorro?" said Don Alejandro, his pulse quickening. He ran out of the door in time to see El Zorro pull his great horse to a stop just in front of the open patio gate. Through the gate, he could see that the outlaw had another man behind him on his horse. Zorro pulled his pistol and fired one shot into the air to announce their arrival. His passenger slipped off of the prancing black stallion and Zorro reached into his saddlebags to give the man a leather portfolio. He then gave his passenger a jaunty salute before he rode away at the gallop. Don Alejandro stepped through the patio gate just in time to see Zorro stop and rear his stallion against the sky one last time before he disappeared around the same bend in the road that had taken Diego away from him only a few weeks ago. He waved at the masked man and then turned to face the young man Zorro had left on his doorstep.

"Diego, my son!" Don Alejandro cried as he threw his arms around Zorro's passenger. Holding Diego tightly, he said over and over, "My son, my son, my son..."

Diego had dropped the portfolio and held his father just as tightly. How good it was to feel his father's love for him first hand. Not as Zorro hearing Don Alejandro speaking of another, but as Diego, the son of Alejandro de la Vega.

"Let me look at you," said Don Alejandro when he was able to tear himself away from the embrace and hold Diego out at arm's length. "You look fine, my son, just fine. You were treated well by our masked friend?"

Sighing to himself for the necessity of maintaining his character, Diego said, "Sí, Padre. He gave me shelter and supplied ample food and wine. But it was dark and rather cold and there was nothing to read. I was completely bored much of the time. But let us not speak of me. It was you who had all the adventure, eh? You and Zorro? You must tell me all about it. Our mysterious friend would tell me little, only that now I am to go free?"

Don Alejandro smiled and clapped his son happily on the back. "Yes, my son, you will go free. We will have to go before Judge Vasca in a formal hearing, but he knows that you are not a traitor now and will publicly rescind your conviction and your sentence of exile," said Don Alejandro. He paused, and said with great solemnity, "I know what you did for me, Diego. The sacrifice you were willing to make. And I am proud to call you my son." Diego's eyes glistened with the tears he fought to hold back. At last, he had heard what he had so longed to hear. He embraced his father once again. Don Alejandro, too, fought back the tears that threatened to spill as he held his son to his heart.

Then finally, they parted, realizing they had an audience watching them. Many of those who worked for the de la Vegas were wiping tears from their eyes as well. "Come, let us go in and I will tell you everything after you have had a chance to clean up and change." He paused and took Diego by the shoulders once again. Their eyes met and Don Alejandro saw something there within Diego's eyes that haunted the edges of his mind, something that struggled to come to the surface. But all that was really important was the knowledge that his son was home and he was safe. "Welcome home, Diego," was all he could say. Then, all the other people present, servants and vaqueros alike, came to offer their warmest welcomes to Diego.

To each one, Diego said time and again, "Graciás. Graciás. I am so very glad to be home." Crescencia pulled him down and planted a kiss on his forehead and then covered her face in embarrassment for being so daring. Diego saw this and took her hand and kissed it in the gallant manner of a caballero. They both smiled at each other. When all had greeted the returning son, Diego picked up the portfolio. Then he and his father walked into the hacienda arm and arm.

Just as they entered the sala, Diego stopped and asked, "Father? What of Bernardo? Have you had word of him?"

Don Alejandro shook his head. "No, Diego. I have heard nothing of him since he was released from the cuartel by Zorro." He paused. "I wonder which Zorro got him out? The real one or the imposter?"

Diego affected to look sad. "For his sake, I hope it was the real one, but he never spoke of Bernardo to me."

"Nor, to me," said Don Alejandro. Then he continued. "A mysterious man, this Zorro. I wonder if we shall ever know who he is?"

"I do not know if he will ever reveal his face," said Diego, thoughtfully. "But I am forever in his debt."

"As are we all," said Don Alejandro. He indicated the portfolio. "What is that you have there?" he asked.

Diego shrugged a little as he said, "Señor Zorro told me to make sure that Judge Vasca received this. He said there are important papers in here the Judge should see." He gave the portfolio to Don Alejandro who saw at once the stylized initial "S" worked into its design. The "S" was in the shape of a serpent. There could be no doubt as to whom this had belonged.

While Diego bathed and changed clothes, Don Alejandro inspected the contents of the portfolio and felt his blood pressure rising and his hair standing up on his neck as he read the meticulous notations on each ranch owner and their weaknesses; seeing for the first time Santiago's nefarious scheme in its entirety. He knew that, without the intervention of the real Zorro, Santiago's plans would have succeeded without a doubt, for his disguise among them was totally misleading. If only the man's great intellect had been used for good instead of ill, California could truly rise to her bright destiny.

 _What a waste the man's life had been as he sought only to take by cunning that which belonged to others,_ Don Alejandro thought, as he leaned back in his chair. The Magistrado had brought good ideas to the district when he first came almost a year ago. If they had been able to follow through on them, all of California could have prospered and Santiago would have certainly been handed the governorship when the time came. What more could a man ask than to be of service to his king and his countrymen? But Santiago had never wanted to serve his fellow man. He only wanted to take from others, destroying whom he would in the process, and had received his just reward. No. He had received justice at the point of a sword. Zorro's sword.


	97. B4 Ch23: Celebración!

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **23 – _Celebración!_**

The lights from the festive lanterns made the garden courtyard of the inn sparkle gaily. Spirited music wove its way through the dancers as they swirled and flowed about the dance floor festooned with garlands and flowers. Many others helped themselves to the heaping mounds of food and drink available on the tables groaning beneath their weight. All were welcome, from the lowest peon to the great landholders of the district. Don Diego would have it no other way. Although there continued to be a natural segregation between the classes, no one was turned away. The peons and the vaqueros danced in the street outside the open courtyard gates where they could still hear the music while the hacendados and their families danced within the courtyard itself. Laughter and happy talk also filled the air.

At the center of attention were Diego de la Vega and his father, Don Alejandro de la Vega. They were seated at a table just to the side of the dance floor where those who wished could come and pay their respects. Also seated at their table was Judge Sebastian Vasca, who, only that morning, had declared Diego de la Vega to be innocent of all charges lodged against him by Jorgé Martinez Santiago, the late Magistrado of Los Angeles. Judge Vasca had already consumed a considerable portion of the foods available and was eyeing dessert. He found that Don Alejandro's people could indeed prepare food fine enough even for his tastes. He was in a very congenial mood.

As he sipped a glass of the excellent de la Vega wine, he watched his hosts and was content to know that a serious wrong had been righted. Throughout the original trial, Diego had maintained his innocence though he had done nothing to defend himself. During today's proceedings, it was announced that Diego had done so under duress, the life of his own father being at stake. It had been his life or that of his father's. That he could make the noble sacrifice required caused no little stir among those in attendance; the same ones who had attended the first trial. They now saw Diego in a new light and many nodded their approval for the son of Don Alejandro. They listened in rapt attention as Diego was at last able to give his own testimony. They heard how he had been set up and how a false Zorro, a killer hired by Santiago, had been the one to kidnap little Eduardo and had been sent to kill the delicate Señora Gracilia. And then, lest those present should wonder, since the young don had only his verbal testimony as evidence, Judge Vasca had stated for the record that he himself was present during the Magistrado's full confession in the small town of San Pedro. The Magistrado had confessed to being the author of everything from the entrapment of Diego to the death of his own wife. Vasca gave a full account of all he had heard that stormy night in San Pedro and held up the sheaf of papers in Santiago's own handwriting which corroborated both Diego's and Vasca's testimony. There were even papers which showed, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that all of Santiago's operatives from Lozano to Hidalgo had been former Eagle's men. Gracilia's message to Diego was entered into evidence as well, confirming the identity of the false Zorro. The judge had then declared all charges against Diego had been made under completely fraudulent conditions, and further declared Diego de la Vega innocent of all those charges, reversing in its entirety the ruling and sentence of exile and death he had made some weeks earlier. The cheering in the courtroom had exceeded his ability to contain it. Finally, he gave up and just let it run its course.

However, the revelation about the hidden sinister side of the Magistrado had troubled many. When would there come a man to their part of California in whom they could place their trust, some had asked after the proceedings were over. Was there anyone who would champion the people against crime and corruption? Judge Vasca knew this was one question to which he had an answer.

It was, perhaps, a most unorthodox answer, and one Judge Vasca could not acknowledge in any official capacity, but it was the best answer he could give. During the day's proceedings, he had noted in the official record that he had been a "guest" of the real Zorro, and the man who had shown him the truth about Señor Santiago had in no way been involved in any conspiracy against the king of Spain or the lawful government of California. He declared that, whatever else Zorro might be, the masked rider was not a traitor. He had almost smiled when this statement, too, had been met with loud cheers, led by none other than Don Alejandro de la Vega himself, while Diego de la Vega had just looked around with a self-depreciating smile. Being an officer of the court, Judge Vasca did his best to maintain his solemn decorum, but at last, he had allowed himself to smile as well. There was still a price on Zorro's head, but somehow Vasca knew that this would not trouble the masked man in the least. His only desire had been to set things right again and he had succeeded. He had taken the Magistrado's own words and had cleansed them and made them his own. Who was the man behind the mask who served Señorita Justice with such devotion? It was doubtful anyone would ever know. But Señor Santiago had been taken on the field of honor by the sword of El Zorro and that made him no less than a nobleman in the eyes of many.

His thoughts were interrupted as Don Alfredo Caldón walked up to their table with his wife and his children crowding around him. Both Diego and Don Alejandro rose to greet them.

"Don Alfredo, my old friend," Don Alejandro said warmly, taking the don by the arm. "Thank you for coming to the fiesta." Taking his wife's hand, he bowed low and placed a kiss there. "And Doña Florintina. How radiant you look tonight." Florintina curtseyed and lowered her eyes.

Don Alfredo also seemed to have trouble meeting Don Alejandro's eyes, but then he turned to Diego. "Don Diego, it is to you I owe you my deepest and most sincere apology. Had I but known, I would have never . . . ."

Diego held up his hand. "Don Alfredo," he said. "Please. It is over. The Magistrado is dead and I have been restored. You were as much a victim as was I. Let us not speak of it again, but resume our friendship as though none of this had ever happened."

Don Alfredo swallowed and blinked a few times, and said with gratitude, "It will be as you wish. My home is open to you any time day or night. My house is your house."

Doña Florintina came and held out her hand, which Diego took gently. "Yes, Diego," she said. "The children are so fond of your stories and music. It would please me greatly if you should come and visit us."

Diego bowed low and kissed her hand. Holding it within both of his, he said, "I would be most happy to come and be a guest in your home once again, Doña Florintina." He looked down at the children. "It has been a such a long time, hasn't it little ones?" All of the children smiled shyly and nodded emphatically. Diego smiled back at them.

"Come, Don Alfredo," said Don Alejandro. "You and your family are to enjoy the fiesta. I am so happy I can barely constrain myself. With your permission, Don Alfredo?" He turned to Florintina and said, sketching a bow, "Señora? May I have the honor of this dance?" Doña Florintina curtseyed again and graciously held out her hand to Don Alejandro, who took it within his. In moments, they were swirling about the dance floor.

Diego smiled broadly as he watched his father dancing. How much life his father had now. So different from the dark days which had threatened to close in on them. His attention returned to Don Alfredo, who took his leave of him then, and, with children in tow, went to the tables laden with food. Diego once again looked for his father and saw him smiling and laughing as he danced with Señora Caldón. If possible, his own smile grew even larger as he watched, his own happiness rising in his heart.

Sergeant Garcia and Corporal Reyes came over to speak with Diego. Each man had a plate well laden with food and a metal cup full of wine. "Ah, Don Diego!" said Garcia with a huge smile, waving his cup all around. "This must be the finest fiesta in all California! All the food!" And the wine!" Here he took a huge drink from his cup.

"I'm glad to see you are enjoying it, Sergeant," said Diego, smiling as he clapped the Sergeant on the back. Then he became a little more serious. "Sergeant, I want to thank you for looking after my father while I was . . . absent," he said. "We are both most grateful. My father has told me that you were the only one he could turn to for company in those dark times."

Garcia suddenly turned bashful. "It was nothing, Don Diego," he said. "I was happy to join him at the tavern. It was no trouble at all."

"Not to mention that he got free wine," said Corporal Reyes, who suddenly had a pain in his toe. Garcia had stepped on his foot. He juggled his plate of food and his wine as he winced.

Giving Reyes a dark look, Garcia turned back to Diego and smiled again. "Any time you need me to take care of Don Alejandro, Don Diego, you have only to ask."

Diego had to smother a laugh. He covered it up by clapping Garcia on the shoulder again and saying, "Graciás, Sergeant. I knew I could count on you."

Garcia then turned to address Judge Vasca, admiring the healthy remains of the food that the portly magistrate had consumed. "Buenas noches, Your Excellency," he said. "You, too, are enjoying the fiesta?"

Vasca nodded pleasantly. "Very much so, Sergeant. I see that you are just getting started?"

Garcia looked at his plate and back at Vasca, "Sí, Your Excellency. Though I cannot hope to eat as much, . . . ." Here he stopped and looked embarrassed. "What I mean is you have such a large appetite, . . . I, . . . I mean, . . . ."

Deciding to rescue Garcia, Diego said, "Sergeant. I see a table near the wine casks has just become available. You had better take it before someone else lays claim to it."

Thanking Diego for both the rescue and the information, Garcia bowed quickly and said, "Graciás, Don Diego. Come, Corporal." To Vasca, he said, "You will excuse us, Excellency?"

Vasca waived congenially at the sergeant and took up his own wine glass once again as the two soldiers made their way to the other table. He was quite satisfied to remain the unchallenged champion of his table.

The fiesta went on long into the night. Both Diego and his father danced many times with the lovely señoras and señoritas, mingling at other times with their guests. Even Judge Vasca had been cajoled into dancing a few steps with a lovely señorita before the evening was over. But there were a few moments when Diego found the opportunity to slip away from the festivities unobserved. He crossed the plaza and walked quietly through the darkness leaving the music and the bright lights behind. Making his way past the church, he walked into the little cemetery and over to the grave of the one person he had not been able to help either as himself or as Zorro.

Gracilia's marker was a plain wooden cross with her name carved on it. It would seem that Santiago had made no provisions for anything else. But somehow, as Diego ran his fingers over the rough wood, he did not think she minded. Somehow it seemed he knew she desired nothing from the man who had been her husband. How, he could not say, but he knew it for truth. He had not been able to attend her funeral and now he knelt beside her grave, crossing himself as he prayed. He asked her forgiveness as he had asked forgiveness from God for having failed to protect her. Bernardo's wise counsel had allowed him to go on and do what he must to see her murderer brought to justice, but now he wanted to make peace with her memory. As he prayed in the quiet of the cemetery, the soft cooing of distant mourning doves floated on the night breezes. Then, even the sounds of the doves gently faded away. He knew then he was forgiven even as there was nothing to forgive. Gracilia was far happier now than she had ever been when confined in her frail, earthly body. She was free of pain and free of want. Diego should no longer sorrow for her death, but rejoice in her new life in the presence of God. A peace descended upon him that could only have come from God. In humble gratitude, he finished his prayers and crossed himself once more.

Before he got ready to leave, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small wooden carving of a burro hung from a bright bit of ribbon. He remembered Gracilia as the vibrant little girl she had been when he had first met her. A smile played upon his lips as he hung the little burro on the wooden cross. "Burro's confession," he murmured fondly. Then he rose quietly and walked away, taking his gift of peace with him.

When he returned to the fiesta, the bright lights and the noise were almost a shock, but he soon rejoined the festive spirit of the evening. As they were want to do, some of the men had gathered in an informal group near the courtyard well with small glasses of Madeira as they talked of wine, cattle, and horses, the three things that made the world go 'round. Don Alejandro was there and Diego joined them. Some noted that he seemed to be paying rather more attention to such talk than he would have scant months ago. They were also joined by Señorita Delores Bastinado of San Pedro, a woman who could carry on about these subjects with no less fines than the men. Don Alejandro had gotten to know her quite well after the time of the Murrietta brothers and had made sure to invite her. While they were speaking together, a servant came up to replenish their drinks. Diego turned to place his empty glass on the tray and take up a full one when he stopped, frozen in place. Noticing that something was wrong, Don Alejandro turned to see what was causing Diego to stare so.

Bernardo's simple-minded smile masked the real smile he had for Diego alone. They had planned that he should just show up like this. He saw Diego's eyes smile in return, though the younger man continued to play his part of being startled by his mozo's sudden appearance.

"Bernardo!" Don Alejandro cried out in surprise. "Where did he come from?" he asked to no one and everyone in particular.

"I do not know, Father," said Diego, smiling now. "But I do not care. What is important is that he is back." Smiling even more, he put his arm around Bernardo and patted the servant happily on the shoulder. He made a few signs into the air and Bernardo watched carefully. Then the mozo made as if to sign and realized he had the tray still in his hands. Thrusting the tray into Don Alejandro's hands, and ignoring the reaction this caused from the older don, he began to sign. He and Diego traded signs for some little time, while all the others looked on. At last, Diego nodded and turned to speak.

"It seems he has been hidden far away from Los Angeles. Where, he does not know, for his rescuer blindfolded him both going and coming. He was only brought back here tonight."

"Who rescued him?" asked one of the men.

Diego made another set of signs and Bernardo made three sweeping motions with his index finger. Then he plastered a bright grin on his face. Diego just looked at the men. This communication he did not have to interpret for them. Everyone knew. They were returning Bernardo's smile and then the buzz began again concerning just who this man was who had done so much for the pueblo, and all of California for that matter. Leaving them to discuss Zorro, Diego gave a knowing smile and a wink just for Bernardo as he gently patted his servant's shoulder once again.

Don Alejandro saw this and wondered about it, but his attention was drawn away as some of the men in the group began exchanging their empty glasses for fresh ones from the tray he was holding. He served several of them before he realized what he was doing and then he thrust the tray back into Bernardo's hands. Bernardo smiled happily up at him and Don Alejandro could not find it within himself to be the least bit put out. He, too, smiled and put his arm around Bernardo to show that he was glad to see the mozo back where he belonged. Bernardo met his eyes and Don Alejandro saw something more in the servant's eyes than he had ever seen before. Then it was gone, replaced by the simple sparkle so characteristic of the man's countenance. Don Alejandro was puzzled, but there was nothing he could put his finger on. Bernardo was serving the Madeira to the other guests just as if he had never been away. Don Alejandro looked back at Diego and saw him looking fondly after his servant. Then he turned and their eyes met. Don Alejandro had the strangest feeling that whatever he had seen in the mozo's eyes was now mirrored in the eyes of his son. He sighed within himself. Would he ever understand all there was to know about his son?

Diego thought he knew what his father might be thinking and decided to distract Don Alejandro with something else. Something pleasant. "Father," he said. "They are about to begin the last dance for the evening. Let us find some beautiful señora or señorita and enjoy it together."

Don Alejandro smiled. "An excellent suggestion, Diego," he said. Turning to their companions, he said, "You will excuse us?" The men nodded generously and some of them decided to take another turn on the dance floor as well. Diego danced with the lovely Señorita Moneta and Don Alejandro danced with Señorita Bastinado, which might have made Corporal Reyes a little jealous, but he was wise enough not to say anything.

When the dance was over and the applause had died away, one of the soldiers who had attended the party spoke up and said, "Sergeant? Sing us that new song we heard the other day. You know. The one about Zorro!"

"Yes, yes," said some of the other soldiers who were present. The rest of the people looked from one to the other wondering just what this song could be. They thought that they had heard them all in days long past.

Looking embarrassed at being asked to perform in front of such a crowd, Garcia was pushed by the soldiers to stand in front of the musicians. He finally consented to sing and asked for the guitar from one of the musicians. Strumming it lightly for a moment, he began singing loudly in his clear baritone voice:

 _"Out of the night, when the full moon is bright  
Comes a horseman known as Zorro.  
This bold renegade carves a "Z" with his blade  
A "Z" that stands for Zorro._

 _Zorro, the fox so cunning and free  
Zorro, who makes the sign of the "Z"_

 _He is polite, But the wicked take flight  
When they catch the sight of Zorro.  
He's a friend of the weak and the poor and the meek  
This very unique, Señor Zorro!_

 _Zorro, the fox so cunning and free  
Zorro, who makes the sign of the "Z"_

 _His sword is a flame, So heed well his name  
Beware the bright sword of Zorro.  
Every wrong he will right and for justice he fights  
Dark angel of night, El Zorro!_

 _Zorro, the fox so cunning and free  
Zorro, who makes the sign of the "Z" _

_Zorro, Zorro, Zorro, Zorrrooooo!"_

Diego, standing near his father and Judge Vasca, crossed his arms and smiled mostly to himself as Garcia sang. He smiled even more when he heard Vasca's snort concerning the politeness of a certain outlaw. But it was good to hear Zorro praised instead of cursed, though he had never donned the mask for that purpose. Zorro's name had been cleared of the charge of treason and that was enough for him. He glanced at Bernardo who was just across the way and saw his mozo smile at him. He gave the tiniest bow in return. Bernardo grinned back. Diego pursed his lips and shrugged a little bit. Then he turned his attention back to his father and the others.

Don Alejandro had taken another glass of wine and now took Sergeant Garcia's place at the head of the crowd. Holding up the glass, he said, "Señores! I have something to say." Everyone looked to him. "I hereby propose a toast to the King! Long may he live and rule over a prosperous California. A California who shall always remain loyal to the crown!"

"Here! Here!" cried many others as they took a glass of wine and joined in the toast to the king.

Don Alejandro then held up his hands to quiet them once again. "I also propose a toast to one who is not here, for he would be arrested immediately by our good Sergeant were he to appear." There was laughter from the crowd. He continued. "I propose a toast to El Zorro, wherever he is. He was the author of the plan which restored my son to me and saw the corrupt Magistrado, Jorgé Santiago, brought to justice." Don Alejandro raised his glass high and said in a loud voice, "To El Zorro!" and he drained his glass. Everyone else, from great landowner to merchant, to vaquero and peon shouted, "To El Zorro!" Even Judge Vasca joined in. "To El Zorro!" they all cried out with a loud voice and they drained their wine cups. There was then a great deal of happy, laughter-filled talk as the fiesta began to wind down, for the night was far spent. No one could ever remember such a fine fiesta as this one had been.

The de la Vegas, their servants and their ranch workers all returned together in a caravan back to the rancho and the hacienda. They were all exhausted, but in a grand way. Don Diego was back home and the patrón was renewed in his soul. The rancho and the hacienda were almost as good as before and they were sure that, not many days hence, no one would ever be able to tell anything had ever been amiss. They were all ready to take up life where it had been left off before the Magistrado had come and torn it all apart.

When the carriage and wagons pulled up at the hacienda, everyone got off and said their good nights to the patrón and his son. Quiet descended at last and it was just Don Alejandro and Diego who were left, with Bernardo hovering quietly in the background.

Don Alejandro looked at Diego and said with a voice full of emotion, "Welcome home, my son. My pride." He held his arms open.

Diego embraced his father and held him tightly. Whatever else this whole affair may have cost him, it was all worth it for this one moment. He would never forget it.

Bernardo watched for only a moment and then averted his eyes. His prayers for his young master's dearest wish had been answered. For the man who was the great and mysterious El Zorro, nothing was more important than this: to have the love and respect of his own father.

Silent tears of happiness flowed down his face, which he gladly let fall gently to the earth.


	98. B4 Ch24: The Revelation

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **BOOK 4**

 **Chapter** **24 – _The Revelation_**

Life settled back into a routine once again. Don Alejandro spent his days working around the rancho. Diego's foray into the legal profession seemed to have sparked a new interest in the business of the rancho. He offered to help his father keep the record books up to date, a task which, heretofore, he had avoided. He still spent a great deal of time with his books and his music, and he often disappeared at odd times with the explanation that he had found the need to go to the tavern or elsewhere, but Don Alejandro did not begrudge his son these things. True to his word, he had now accepted Diego for who he was, not who he wanted him to be. Don Alejandro had taken the time to really listen to his son's musical abilities and was amazed at Diego's finely honed talent. He read some of the poetry written by Diego, and found it both moving and inspiring. He found he could take pride in these accomplishments of his son, and his heart was content.

There was a peace in the house of the de la Vega's which had not existed for a long time.

One cool evening found the two of them in the sala. Don Alejandro had settled into a chair next to the fire and was reading a book with a glass of his finest wine set out upon the table next to him. On the other side of the fireplace, Diego was leisurely leaning back in the other chair with his guitar in his lap. He was softly strumming different melodies, just trying out some new combinations that were pleasing to the ear. The two of them were enjoying their newfound companionship and were comfortable with each other for the first time since Diego's return from Spain.

Diego sat up and bent over his guitar as he tried out a particularly difficult piece, concentrating intently on the delicate fingerings. As he focused closely on the guitar in his hands, he said rather absently, "Ummmm . . . Father?"

"Mmm . . .?," Don Alejandro responded absently in kind, not looking up. He was quite engrossed in his book.

Continuing to concentrate on the guitar, studying the placement of his fingers, Diego asked, "You remembered to return the ring to Judge Vasca, did you not? He did seem to set great store by it." Casually, Diego then leaned back and gazed thoughtfully up at nothing in particular as he began playing another composition, a soft ballad which had become Don Alejandro's favorite.

Preoccupied, Don Alejandro spoke without looking up from his book, "Sí, I remembered." Then he casually glanced at Diego as the younger man nodded his approval and continued to coax sweet music from his guitar, still gazing thoughtfully upwards, his mind far away with his music.

Don Alejandro returned to his book, soothed by the music of Diego's guitar. He read some minutes more as Diego continued to play. Then the pages of his book blurred before his eyes. The words upon those pages became mere black marks, devoid of all meaning, as something absolutely compelling coalesced in his mind. He slowly raised his eyes to stare at Diego in mute astonishment.

The ring.

There was only one other man who would know about the judge's lost ring. Don Alejandro almost did not dare to acknowledge the thought that resounded through his mind and pounded through the beating of his heart. The only other man in all the world who knew about the ring was the outlaw, Zorro. He continued to stare at his son. There could be no mistake. Sitting here in his very own home, calmly playing the guitar for his own quiet amusement, was none other than the man of such great mystery.

El Zorro.

Don Alejandro's hands began to tremble and he felt as if the earth had dropped away from beneath him. He let the book fall silently from nerveless hands into his lap. He took no notice. All he knew was, with that one innocent question, the greatest mystery in all California was revealed at last. A mere moment's slip in the constant vigilance that must always surround Diego and now Don Alejandro knew. And Diego still did not seem to understand just what he had done, for he continued to play his guitar, his mind occupied with the music he was composing.

Don Alejandro's mind raced. It was true. It was actually true. He could see it all now. His Diego was the masked man clothed in black who rode into danger time after time to help those in need. His Diego was a swordsman without equal in all of California. His Diego was the one who had saved Don Alejandro's life when he had been shot and severely wounded all those months ago. His Diego was swift, fearless, brave and cunning. His Diego was the same magnificent figure of a man who stood illuminated in the single ray of the morning sunlight just those few days ago after settling the affair of Santiago and his henchmen. His Diego was the man with the greatest price on his head that California had ever seen.

All the things that had confounded him about Diego since his return from Spain fell into place. His transformation into a soft man of books and music from the roguish boy that he had been. His mysterious absences. The sometimes hasty excuses he gave for those absences. The reason Zorro knew just when to arrive in the pueblo to warn the dons of the trap that Monastario had laid for them. Then there was the absolutely eerie feeling Don Alejandro had later that same night when he felt he had but to remove Zorro's mask to reveal the face of his son. He had later come to believe that it had been merely a delusion brought on by the delirium from his wounds. How close he had come to the truth even then. And Monastario! The man had been right when he _had_ accused Diego of being Zorro, thought Don Alejandro. And somehow Diego had eluded exposure in the face of that truth, even in the very presence of the Viceroy. Don Alejandro looked upon Diego anew.

There were many other things that came to his mind as well. So many clues that he had let slip by him. A broken guitar string which was unbroken. Zorro's ability to enter and leave the hacienda in the manner of the most ethereal ghost. There was Diego's attitude the night the vigilantes had dragged Paco to the cuartel jail. How could a man who was truly El Zorro have any other attitude than the one displayed by Diego that night? Don Alejandro shook his head at the memory. Moving on, there was the way Zorro had looked at Don Alejandro with such satisfaction the night Galindo had fallen from power. There was the total absence of Diego while Zorro helped to vanquish the Eagle in the fight at the pueblo, and Diego's return as soon as the fighting was over. And more recently, mistaking Zorro's voice for Diego's the night before Santiago came to make his second offer. Even the thought that Zorro's handwriting was so similar to Diego's. All of these, and so many more that now swirled through his mind, were clues which he had overlooked. Things which he had not seen because of his own rigid expectations and his own shortcomings. All of these were the things that should have told him who his son was.

From the depths of his memory came the very words of Zorro, as the masked man had declared himself to Don Alejandro:

 _"Who am I, you ask? I am you, Señor,"_ Zorro had said. _"You who suffers for the son wrongfully convicted as a traitor. I am the vaquero and the ranchero who suffer under punishing taxes, unlawfully demanded. I am the peon or the Indian toiling in poverty who is stripped from his home and forced into slave labor for the benefit of corrupt officials. I am the child who cries in the night seeking a mother or father who is no longer there because they were falsely imprisoned. I am all who suffer under the rule of those who use the law for their own purposes. And thus, . . . I am your son, . . . Diego."_

 _"I am your son, . . . Diego."_ How those words echoed in his mind now and reverberated in his heart. Words that assumed flesh in the form of the son who now sat before him. He remembered how he had felt the night he had first heard those words and his heart swelled with love and pride for his son, so much so that he feared it would burst. He ran his hand through his hair and found it was trembling now more than ever. As he continued to stare at Diego, it was as if he was seeing his son for the first time. And he was humbled by what he saw. As Zorro, Diego had done so many great and valorous deeds, and yet, he had done it all in secret, seeking nothing for himself, doing what he had to do, even to the acceptance of the scorn of his father without complaint.

Don Alejandro felt a tear gather and roll down his face. How he must have hurt Diego with his words so many times and all the while, Diego was being the very man that Don Alejandro had longed for him to be. The harsh words had been spoken in ignorance, but that would not have made them any the less painful for Diego to bear. Would he ever be able to ask Diego for forgiveness?

Why had Diego never confided in him, he wondered. Did he not trust his own father? But no, that would not be the reason. Don Alejandro had been around Zorro enough to know that this was not the reason. It was simply Diego's way of protecting his father, just as he had been willing to face conviction as a traitor and the sentence of exile or even of death in order to protect Don Alejandro from Santiago. Diego was willing to take all the risks and shoulder the burden of being who he was all alone. Again, Don Alejandro had to swallow past the lump in his throat. Such a son he had! _Isabella? Isabella, do you see our son?_ he called out in his thoughts. _Do you, as I, wish to stand upon the rooftops of Los Angeles and proclaim that we are proud of our son? To proclaim to the world that our son is El Zorro?_ He had to swallow past the lump in his throat many times as he sought to control his emotions. His eyes brimmed full. _Such a son we have, my beloved!_ he cried out in his mind. The music Diego was playing at the moment seemed to mirror Don Alejandro's thoughts. It soared on the proud wings of eagles and lifted his heart to the heavens, transporting him there and lingering long. Then Diego changed keys and began to play something very soft and delicate. Don Alejandro was brought gently back to earth on the notes of the music. If only Diego's mother could have heard him playing now, he thought. She would have been as proud of his musical accomplishments as she would have been for his hidden identity if he knew anything about Isabella at all. Don Alejandro smiled gently at the thought.

Don Alejandro's musings were interrupted as Diego looked up from his guitar, smiling as he continued to play. Having regained a momentary grip upon his emotions, Don Alejandro nodded calmly at Diego and smiled in return, holding his thoughts to himself. Diego's attention returned to his guitar, still unaware of the swirling storm of emotions he had created within his father. Don Alejandro thought about that smile. How like his mother's smile it was! And, he was struck by something else. Diego's eyes. Those were the very eyes which had haunted him every time he had been drawn into the eyes of the outlaw. The eyes behind the silken black mask were those of his son, a gift from the loving mother who bore him. His eyes were her eyes. How had he not recognized those hazel eyes in the outlaw before this? _I saw only what he wanted me to see,_ he thought to himself. _He is the master of himself and who he has become. He chose his guise and his namesake well._ Don Alejandro found that he suddenly had to restrain himself from going to his son and sweeping him up in an embrace. Once again, he could scarcely contain his emotions. But no, he could not do that. Diego had his secret and it was his to keep. Don Alejandro would never let Diego know that he knew. He would let Diego decide when . . . and if . . . he would tell his father.

Diego was a man beyond any man he had ever known, and, as such a man, he should be able to make his own decisions. However hard it would be, Don Alejandro would wait.

The realization came to him then that he might never have had this revelation about his son were it not for Santiago's machinations. It was clear that Santiago's cunning plan had been so devious that even Diego, with all of the gifts of discernment which he had as El Zorro, had been taken in. Don Alejandro remembered back to the earnestness with which Diego had taken on his new role as the Magistrado's deputy. _He was trying to earn my respect,_ thought Don Alejandro to himself. _And I didn't see it. I just did not see it._ He shook his head at his own blindness. But Diego had gained father's respect with the help of Zorro. The irony of this did not escape Don Alejandro. Santiago's cunning machinations had been the catalyst which had thrown both Don Alejandro and Zorro together during their quest to overturn Diego's conviction for treason and expose Santiago for the corrupt official and evil murderer he had been. From this had come Don Alejandro's new acceptance of his son for the man of books and music which was who he had seemed to be. A scholar and a poet his son was indeed, but how much more! How much more. Now, Don Alejandro knew Zorro's secret, something Santiago would never have imagined.

Diego now began playing one of his own compositions. One with a softly haunting melody. In the mind of Don Alejandro, it conjured up the image of a man dressed all in black, riding alone through the hills on a moonlit night, the sword of justice gleaming at his side. The music continued to haunt him, changing now to something more intense as the rhythms increased, evoking the urgencies of the midnight mission and the strength of purpose behind the man who hid his face from the world. This was indeed the music of El Zorro. Don Alejandro found he was not breathing, so caught up in the piece was he.

Diego's music changed and softened yet again, evolving into something which bespoke the quiet triumph written within its measures. Don Alejandro knew this represented how his son looked upon his triumph over Santiago and all the others he had ever confounded. The quiet triumph of a true and honorable man. One to whom upholding the right and defending the weak was reward enough for his soul. A truly noble spirit. Don Alejandro's heart swelled anew at the love and pride he had for his son. Another moment and he would not be able to hold back the tide of his emotions. He would have to speak or burst.

He was spared as the front door opened and Bernardo came into the sala. He walked over to stand near Diego, glancing at Don Alejandro who had quickly taken up his book, pretending to be reading again. Don Alejandro realized there was indeed one other person who knew his son's secret, and had known it for a long time. The silent one. The faithful one. It would appear the little mozo was also so much more than he seemed. It would explain the many things about enigmatic servant which had always seemed to border on the supernatural. Don Alejandro knew now that Diego had chosen his servant and loyal companion well during his years in the mother country of Spain.

Bernardo, seeing that Don Alejandro was occupied with his book, tapped Diego on the shoulder to gain his attention. Diego stopped his playing and Don Alejandro stole a look. He could see there was something quite urgent on Bernardo's mind as the mozo made some motions which were too quick for him to follow. Diego watched his servant intently, his face tightening as the signing ended with Bernardo pointing up to Diego's room, making the subtly small sign of the 'Z' with his finger, and then pointing toward the pueblo of Los Angeles. Diego nodded once and set his guitar aside as he addressed Don Alejandro who had quickly returned to the perusal of his book.

"Father? Bernardo has just reminded me that I promised to meet Sergeant Garcia at the tavern tonight. If you will excuse me?" He stood, waiting for his father's reply.

"If you must," said Don Alejandro, closing the book in his lap. "I was going to bed soon anyway. Give my regards to the Sergeant."

Diego bowed to his father and quickly departed the room, followed by Bernardo close on his heels. Now that he knew, Don Alejandro could remark upon the coiled tension which had settled on Diego's broad shoulders and the controlled urgency in his steps. The meeting at the tavern was just a pretense, he was sure. It had been almost magical to see the two men in action. He smiled at the door which had closed behind them, and, in his mind, imagined seeing a man dressed all in black, riding the winds of the night as he raced away on his mission.

"Hold fast," he addressed the unknown in a whisper. "El Zorro is coming."

* * *

 **END OF BOOK 4**

* * *

NEXT is the EPILOGUE


	99. Epilogue

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Epilogue**

"I have called all of you together to discuss the letters you have received from Don Gregorio Verdugo of Monterey," said Don Alejandro, as he addressed the room full of landholders in the sala of his hacienda. He held up his letter. "What he proposes has great merit. We do need many of the supplies he lists. Even now, those in other towns and pueblos are gathering their monies and sending them to Señor Verdugo."

"What do you think we should do?" asked Don Alfredo. "I do not know this Señor Verdugo. I have only heard his name mentioned from time to time. How can we be sure he will do as he says?"

"Sí, this is true," said Don Tomas Yorba. "We have had our fill of men who say the things we would like to hear and who take advantage of us in the end." Many of the men nodded their agreement with these words and turned to speak to their neighbors in low tones.

"Señores," said Don Alejandro, bringing them to order again. "I, too, am wary of sending this large sum of money to Monterey in hopes of a future shipment of supplies. However, as you all know, our supply of certain items runs short and it will take a year or more if someone starts out now to go to Spain and return with the goods. Think of what will happen if we do not receive those supplies." There was silence as the men looked at one another in concern.

"We must know for certain that this Señor Verdugo can be entrusted with our monies," said Don Tomas emphatically.

"Let me ask the question," said Don Alejandro. "If it can be determined that Don Gregorio is trustworthy, are you all willing to contribute to the amount Los Angeles will send to this cause? Think on this well."

Diego sat in one of the chairs near the fireplace a few paces away from his father as he watched and listened to the proceedings. He knew the men of Los Angeles were extremely cautious men. If Don Alejandro or one of the other local dons had proposed this idea, they would have been willing to open their purses and contribute their monies. But they were not willing to place their trust in someone whom they did not know. It was a sad thing, to be so distrustful, but understandable given the past history of Los Angeles over the last two years or so. Their trust had been undermined too many times of late. Monastario. Galindo. The Eagle. Santiago. These were the men who had molded the attitude of those who sat in this room today.

Don Hilario spoke up then. "I am not as well off as some of you others," he said. "You all know this. But I can see the need is great for these supplies. I would say that if, . . . if we can be assured of the possibility of success for this venture, I would be willing to contribute what I can."

Diego gauged the reaction of the others as they talked among themselves. Don Hilario was a somber man, not given to action without due consideration. If he would be willing to put up his money, then perhaps the others would as well. Diego glanced back at his father and their eyes met. They had discussed this many times since the letter had arrived addressed to Don Alejandro. Both of them saw the necessity for Señor Verdugo's attempt. Another year of shortages would leave the colony of California more vulnerable than ever to her enemies. Something had to be done. Though Don Alejandro had an acquaintance with Señor Verdugo, he did not know the man well enough to reassure the other men in this room. Between the two of them, they had decided that Diego should go to Monterey and see for himself what the situation was and to evaluate whether or not to turn any monies over to Don Gregorio.

Diego was flattered that his father would have chosen him to be the one to go to Monterey. Don Alejandro's attitude towards him had undergone a tremendous transformation in the months since the death of the former magistrado, Jorge Santiago. No longer did Don Alejandro try and make Diego over in his image, but allowed his son to be who he was. He was willing to listen to Diego's ideas and suggestions, and was even willing to try some new things concerning the rancho. Diego found this very refreshing. It seemed, since the charges of treason against him had been overturned and shown to be false, that Don Alejandro knew he had a son worthy of his respect and absolute trust. Don Alejandro could have made the decision to go to Monterey himself, but he trusted Diego enough to go in his place. This warmed Diego to his very soul.

His attention returned to his father as the older man took the floor again. "Señores," he said. "I will state here and now that I will contribute two thousand pesos to this cause." Seeing the looks on the faces of the others, he said, "However, I have a plan to propose."

"Let us hear your plan," said Don Tomas.

Don Alejandro looked at Diego, then turned back as he said, "I propose that before Los Angeles sends any money to Monterey, we send someone to speak with Señor Verdugo. To assess the situation. To investigate. We would give this man the authority to agree to hand over the money or not based on his judgement."

"Who would you send, Don Alejandro?" asked Don Tomas. "Yourself?"

"No, I would send my son, Diego," said Don Alejandro, drawing himself up to his full height.

Everyone turned to look at Diego. He returned their look calmly. Would they accept him for such an important mission? All eyes then turned to Don Alfredo as he rose from his seat to speak.

"I would support sending Diego to Monterey," Don Alfredo stated clearly. "He has proven himself to be a man of honor. You all know what has happened in the past year, and of the attempt to see Diego hanged for treason. Yet in all of this, Diego never wavered in his steadfast claim of innocence, though he could not defend himself. He was willing to forfeit his life to save that of his father's. I ask you. What man among you has more honor than this?"

Diego lowered his eyes as he heard Don Alfredo's words of praise. Don Alejandro saw this and his heart swelled with pride. How like his son to be uncomfortable when hearing praise about himself. No, amended Don Alejandro. It was just Diego's humbleness of spirit. Diego did what he did because it was the right thing to do, not for the praise of men. He thought of his son's hidden life and how none of the men in this room had any idea who it was that would not meet their eyes. _If they only knew who sat before them,_ he thought to himself, imagining the pandemonium that would result if he were to make such an announcement. But he was still bound by his respect for Diego's apparent desire to remain anonymous. Then he smiled to himself. Perhaps Diego was uncomfortable with praise which put him in the spotlight, but Don Alejandro was not so humble. He was proud of his son and not afraid to say so. Not now. Not like before, when he himself had not known who lived within his household.

He spoke up. "You all know that my son was the assistant deputy magistrado for a time. Despite all the other machinations which we will not speak of now, he performed admirably in this position." Looking around the room, he saw that the men were waiting. "I believe you all know of cases where Diego was sent to gather information and make certain decisions as an officer of the king. I also believe there has been no cause for complaint in any of the cases in which Diego was involved?" There apparently was none. "I say now, with a father's pride, that Diego has demonstrated he is trustworthy, intelligent, and thorough. I believe we should send him to Monterey and let him discover whether or not it is safe to give our money to Señor Verdugo."

Don Tomas spoke up then, looking directly at Diego. "I was wrong when I believed the lies told to us by Santiago. And for that I have asked Diego's forgiveness in the past." Diego nodded his head once to acknowledge Don Tomas, who continued. "I had occasion to watch young Diego in his role as the deputy magistrado when he came to investigate a claim against me and I was thoroughly impressed. He took his charge as an officer in the king's service very seriously and did his job conscientiously. I say I will support Diego as the man we send to Monterey, and I will trust him with my money in this cause."

These two testimonials broke the ice with the rest of the dons and soon all were in agreement that Diego should go to Monterey. Diego exchanged looks with his father and they smiled at one another. Don Alejandro turned again and addressed the men.

"We are all agreed then?" he asked. "Diego will go ahead to Monterey. I will stay here and coordinate gathering and accounting for the money which we will send to him by separate courier. Once Diego has learned all he can, he alone will make the decision whether or not to hand over the Los Angeles money to Señor Verdugo." Don Alejandro paused. Everyone was nodding their heads in agreement. "Very well. If you will now let me know how much you think you will be willing to contribute, I will send a letter by the mails to Señor Verdugo immediately, expressing our interest in his venture and informing him of Diego's arrival within the week. There is a mail coach leaving for Monterey tonight."

"One moment, Father," said Diego holding up his hand to gain everyone's attention. "I would like to express my thanks for the confidence you have placed in me," he said, as he looked at each man in the room. "As Don Tomas has said, I will take this assignment seriously and do all I can to ensure your money will only be used for the purpose intended or I will see that it is returned to you safely. I pledge this upon my honor as a de la Vega."

"Well said, my son, well said!" exclaimed Don Alejandro as he grasped Diego by the shoulder. Diego smiled at his father's outburst. Invoking the de la Vega name was akin to swearing on the Bible and to Don Alejandro, it just might be even more sacred than that. He felt his father's pride extended to him and he embraced it.

The men lined up and Don Alejandro wrote down the amounts each man was willing to give. When he was done, he totaled up the amount and made an announcement. "Señores. Those of us here in this room have pledged to send seventeen thousand pesos to Monterey."

"Seventeen thousand pesos," repeated several men, themselves impressed by the amount.

"It will take many thousands of pesos more to buy the supplies that California needs," said Don Alejandro. "But I daresay no other pueblo will give as much as you all have been willing to give. I say we should have a glass of wine to celebrate." This was agreeable to everyone and they all stayed to talk to each other concerning the venture. When they were ready to go, they came and let Diego know of their personal approval and wished him God speed as they left by ones and twos. Diego was quite satisfied. He felt the whole thing had been handled very reasonably and he was anxious to be on his way to Monterey.

 **-Z-Z-Z-**

Early the next morning, after breakfast, Diego and Bernardo were standing in the patio waiting for Don Alejandro to come out. Their saddled horses were tied to the rails outside the patio gate and the plumes of fog from their nostrils punctuated the air. The chill of the night was still waiting for the sun to come and warm it away. Diego's palomino was tossing his head up and down and champing at the bit, eager to be on his way, while Bernardo's horse was a bit more pragmatic about the whole thing. Tornado was once again a muddy grey color and secreted among the mares of the meadow who seemed to accept him quite readily. The mares would be left mostly alone in the high meadow for the summer as they grew fat with the new foals they would deliver next spring. Diego had admonished Tornado not to let himself be caught by anyone while they were away and the great stallion had tossed his head in seeming agreement. Both Diego and Bernardo felt fairly confident that Tornado would behave himself as long as he had a harem of good de la Vega mares to watch over.

Bernardo looked at his young master and was content. It seemed Diego had come to some peace within himself concerning his life at present. Don Alejandro was no longer critical of Diego and seemed to take a genuine interest in those things which Diego did well. He was more at ease with his son and actually encouraged him to continue with his scholarly pursuits. He respected Diego's abilities enough to send him on an important mission to Monterey which did wonders for Diego's outlook. All Diego had ever wanted for himself was to gain the respect of his father and now it was his. Zorro was again part of his life and that meant Diego must maintain his persona which he had created upon his return from Spain. But now, the sharp edges of that relationship were gone and in their place, acceptance. Bernardo patted the saddlebag he held in his arms. The black clothing contained within was as much a part of Diego as was the bright smile that the young man was wearing now. Diego had not told him to bring the costume, but Bernardo believed in being prepared. When, and if, it was required, it would be there for El Zorro.

At last, Don Alejandro came out of the hacienda. He looked at Diego and Bernardo and sensed they were as eager to be off as was the palomino who pawed at the ground outside of the patio gate. He looked again at his son standing tall, strong and confident in the soft morning sunlight and was reminded of another morning not so very long ago when the sun fell upon another man. A man who kept his face hidden from the world. But the mask could no longer hide the piercing hazel eyes and the infectious smile from Don Alejandro. He knew them as he knew the man who stood before him. The two men who were one. The two men who were his son. He embraced Diego and then stood back to let him go.

"Adios, Father," said Diego. "Do not worry. Everything will be all right."

Holding his head up high, Don Alejandro said, "Yes, Diego. Everything will be all right. I will have Sergeant Garcia and Corporal Reyes follow you with the money as soon as it has all been collected. They will ride along El Camino Real just as you will and hopefully should only be a day or two behind you if everything goes well. Go with God, my son, and may you have a safe journey."

"Graciás, Father," said Diego, and he motioned to Bernardo to follow him. They both mounted their horses after Bernardo tied the saddlebag securely to his saddle. Don Alejandro stepped through the gate to see them off. When the two men reached the top of the hill, Diego pulled up. As the palomino tossed its head and pranced restlessly beneath him, he turned to look back. His father was there just as he knew he would be. The palomino reared and pawed the air as Diego waved to his father. He saw his father smiling and waving back. Happily, he set the palomino's feet back on the ground and set off at a gallop, heading for the intriguing capital city of Monterey.

Don Alejandro blinked back the tears which threatened to spill as he watched Diego ride away.

These tears were not tears of sorrow, but of fierce pride and joy. His chest heaved with his emotions as he fought with the desire to cry out to all the world what he was feeling right now.

Raising his eyes to heaven, he cried out within his heart and mind. _"Such a son I have!"_

 _"Such a son is mine!"_

* * *

 **THE END**

* * *

 **Account Holders Note:** And that was all she wrote! The story neatly ended positioning the characters for the second season. I hope you all enjoyed the story as much as I did! :) Till the next story!


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